


(dis-moi que) tout s'arrange

by LtTanyaBoone



Series: nous nous retrouverons pour apprendre à voler [5]
Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: Struggling, stumbling, and figuring things out. *sequel tol'abri en nous*





	(dis-moi que) tout s'arrange

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings/trigger warnings: blood, murder, death (of minor/background character), car accident, (references to past) child abuse, potential sexual assault (unwanted kissing), discussion of reproductive decisions and choices
> 
> this does contain mild sexual content, it's either a very high T, or low M rating, i went with the M to be on the safe side
> 
> reminder that i don't speak french, and the french for this is an amalgamation from google translate, dict.cc and my very basic grammar understanding. and as before, for your convenience, you should be able to mouse over (most of) the french parts and have a translation pop up.
> 
> there's a time skip of about two years between the end of [l'abri en nous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972233) and this, at the beginning of this story, Joel is three years old

Larren reaches up and tries to cover her yawn, failing miserably. Lise shakes her head at the other woman and tries to bite back her own tired yawn. Bounces on her feet, instead, hoping that getting her blood moving will wake her up.

Headlights travel down the road and Lise turns her head. Watches, as the car goes by, staying on the main road instead of taking the side trail where the crime scene is located. She squints in the darkness, but can't make out anything in regards to the car. It might have been nothing. Might have been just someone travelling home late. Or it may have been a suspect coming back to mess with the scene, and they saw the lights and realized they had already found the body.

“Sorry, for dragging you out in the middle of the night,” the other female detective mutters and offers her traveling mug to her. Lise eyes it suspiciously. The last time she accepted a sip of its contents had been during the dark-haired woman’s ‘spiced chai’ phase. It hadn’t been a particularly pleasant experience.

“It’s just coffee with some milk,” Larren tells her and Lise lets out a relieved sigh.

“In that case,” she mutters and takes the mug. Carefully takes a sip, and bites back a surprised groan at the discovery that ‘milk’ in this case means almond milk. It’s not entirely bad, just, weird. She’s used to 2% milk in her own coffee.

“Are you going vegan on me?” she asks as she hands the mug back to Larren, who lets out a soft laugh.

“No,” the other woman shakes her head. “I accidentally left out the dairy milk and it went bad,” she adds with a dramatic sigh. “This was all we had left.”

“Ah,” Lise nods and gets out her phone, to check the time. Almost three in the morning. If the coroner hurries up a little, she may actually be able to make it home in time for breakfast. Failing that, she’s crossing her fingers that at least she’ll be able to drop Joel off at daycare.

He’s been, difficult. Well, not exactly that. Saying that feels like she’s implying that he does it on purpose, that his acting out is a conscious decision on his part. Lise doesn’t believe that, especially given how Joel reacts upon being reprimanded. She’s lost count of the absolute breakdowns the past few weeks. The moments when their son just completely bursts into tears and will be inconsolable for up to an hour.

They need to find a solution to this, John and her. That Joel is so distraught, it’s mostly because work has been an absolute nightmare for the past three months. One of them is either working late into the night, or gets called out to a scene in the middle of the night. Never mind the many times that either John or her have had to go to Toronto recently. It’s upset their routine and destroyed any semblance of normalcy in their lives, and Joel doesn’t know how to handle it. Lise doesn’t blame him for one second, she finds herself struggling most days, as well.

Not to mention that the boy probably heard John and her fighting. They’ve been doing that a lot, recently. At least it feels like that, to Lise. She knows that most of it, it’s her. She’s testy and frustrated and then John either avoids answering a question or makes a comment and she ends up blowing up at him. It’s not that she’s angry with him, but he’s there and that is more than she can say for most of the causes of her current unhappiness. Irritation. Whatever. She knows she has to work on it. On finding a different outlet for her emotions. Probably should pick up boxing again. But the reason she stopped going, was because there just hasn’t been time.

With a sigh, she rubs a hand over her face and then shakes her head. Time to focus on work again. Figure out the issue of her private life in her spare time. The little she has of it, anyway.

* * *

“Good morning, my love,” Lise murmurs as she picks Joel up as he comes to greet her by the door. Kisses his cheek as the boy rubs his eyes sleepily and hides his face against her neck. She kicks the door shut and tosses her keys onto the table, looking for John. Moose passes her in the hallway, letting out a soft chirp and Lise pauses as the cat briefly rubs herself against her legs, before continuing on her way, probably going to check her food bowl to see if she’s gotten fed already.

She finds John trying to hammer the washing machine into submission. The thing has been on the frizz, they need to get someone to take a look at it, but with how things have been, they keep having to either cancel on the mechanic, or forgetting to book an appointment in the first place.

“Hey,” he mutters and leans down to kiss her cheek before delivering a kick to the machine’s side. And letting out a soft yell of triumph when it finally starts drawing water.

“Why is he still in PJs?” Lise asks, rubbing her hand down her sleepy kid’s back. And realizes that John himself is still in his own sleepwear, his hair all messy. Huh.

“He was whiny, so I took his temp, and it’s kind of, on the cusp of being fever-ish,” he shrugs. “Called them already to let them know he’s staying home, I’ll take him to the doc later.”

“John,” Lise mutters, allowing a sigh to escape her. Joel moves against her, hands twisting into her shirt.

“Maman ha’ breakfast wid us?” he asks, looking up at her with his big eyes, and she feels her heart melt at his expression.

“Sure bud,” John nods. “Come here,” he says and lifts him from Lise’s arms to set him onto the floor. “Go start getting out spoons for cereal, yeah,” he tells him and Joel toddles off, a yawn drifting from his retreating form.

“I know we said we wouldn’t play into him not wanting to go, but given how groggy he was yesterday afternoon, I didn’t feel comfortable sending him,” John tells her, his voice low. “I know you’re probably off for the day, I’ll make sure we keep it down. If I’m right and he really is coming down with something, he won’t want to be all loud and rowdy, anyway,” he shrugs.

Lise draws a slow breath before shaking her head a little. Leans in to brush her lips over his. He’s a good dad. If he feels that their child is getting sick, then she’s inclined to believe him. John isn’t the kind of person to use their son to get out of work.

“How come Dyson let you take the day and didn’t say I should deal with it?” Lise asks as she steps closer and John wraps his arms around her.

“I may have said that it feels like I caught what he has, as well,” her partner admits, drawing a laugh from her.

“John,” she shakes her head at him, making him shrug. He hesitates, before reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face.

“You look tired,” he remarks gently. It makes her let out a soft sigh, biting back a snarky reply about how much she just wanted to hear that compliment.

“I am,” Lise nods. Feels him cradle her cheek and reaches up to cover his hand with her own. Her eyes close as she soaks up his touch. “It wasn’t, pretty,” she whispers, a shudder running through her at the memory of the crime scene. That one may get a feature in her next nightmare, she thinks. Definitely not looking forward to that.

“You up for food, or do you want to crash?”

“No, I’ll eat with you,” Lise shakes her head and opens her eyes again, stepping away. She has to get something into her empty stomach, anyway, and besides, John pretty much promised Joel that she’d have breakfast with them. If she doesn’t, he’ll throw a fit, and it will set a pretty lousy tone for the rest of the day. Plus, the longer there is, between her seeing the crime scene, and her closing her eyes for sleep, the higher the chances she won’t have to see those images on repeat as she tries to fall asleep.

In the kitchen, Joel has climbed up onto his chair. Kneels on it, his head resting on the table, the boy a picture of exhaustion and misery. In the corner, Moose is slurping up her breakfast, looking up briefly at Lise’s entrance, before she returns to her bowl.

“Euh, mon ange,” Lise mutters as she walks over and strokes her hand down his back. “Veux-tu t'asseoir sur mes genoux?”

Joel gives a mute nod and straightens, holding out his arms for her. She picks him up, biting back a groan. He’s getting heavy, she thinks, wondering where the time went. It feels like just weeks ago, he was a tiny baby that fit perfectly in the crook of her arm, and now she has trouble balancing him on her hip some days.

Maybe John is right, Lise thinks as she takes him to the fridge and puts Joel on the counter, taking care to keep a hand on him, to prevent him from climbing around. He does seem, out of it, for a lack of better word. Kind of lethargic and tired and just, not himself. While he can be a bit of a sleepyhead, at this point, he’d usually be waking up and starting to talk. Which the toddler isn’t doing, at the moment, instead rubbing his eyes sleepily as he blinks at Lise.

“Captain Crunch?” she asks as she gets down the cereal boxes. Shakes it for him, but to her surprise, Joel pulls a face and shakes his head no.

“Non?” Lise blinks at him before setting the box down. “Alors, qu’est-ce que tu veux, hein?” she asks, brushing his hair back from his face. He needs a haircut. She’s pretty sure she said the same thing like, three days ago, and John promised her he’d take him this week. So much for that. Oh well, it’s not that bad, not just yet. When he’ll have to wear one of her hair clips, then they’re really having an issue, but right now, it just looks a little, messy.

“Yogurt,” Joel croaxes, pointing at the fridge. Lise bites back a laugh and gets out the two glasses they have inside, one plain, the other with raspberries.

“Hey you two,” John yawns as he joins them, getting bowls for all three of them. As he goes to grab the cereal, Lise shakes her head.

“He’s decided on yogurt,” she tells him.

“No Captain?” John asks, his eyebrows lifting. “My, you are sick,” he mutters under his breath. “You wanna help Daddy set the table?” he asks Joel, who pulls a face and reaches for Lise again.

“Euh,” she breathes and picks him up, kissing his cheek. Rubs her hand down his back as Joel hides his face against her clavicle, a shudder running through him. It makes her worry, for an instant, that he could have forgotten to tell them he has to use the potty in his sleepy state and just peed all over her. But when she doesn’t feel anything soaking her clothes, nor hears the telltale dripping, she figures he’d just felt cold.

“You want plain with fruit?” John asks and Lise nods, getting the berry mix she picked up yesterday from the fridge. Goes to rinse the fruit and then takes it to the table with her.

She lets Joel sit in her lap as he eats, since she asked earlier and he said yes. Watches, as he eats slowly, pulling a face after each bite.

“T’as mal à la gorge?” she asks him. “Does your throat hurt?” she adds at his confused look. Joel nods, shoveling another spoonful of cold yogurt into his mouth. It explains why he didn’t want cereal, and why he chose yogurt instead. It probably helps, the cool food soothing his throat a little.

“I’m sorry kiddo,” John sighs and touches his head. “We’re gonna go see Doc Trent, okay? He’ll have something that makes it better.”

Joel lets out a miserable sound at that, drawing a soft laugh from Lise.

“Pas de vaccin cette fois, je te promets,” she tells him before kissing Joel’s temple. “Papa te prendre au docteur, et quand vous reviens, les trois d'entre nous peuvent câliner. Ca te plait?”

Joel gives an enthusiastic nod, before scrunching his nose up and letting out a loud sneeze.

“Bless you,” John exclaims in surprise and hands him a napkin. “Caliner?,” he adds, frowning at Lise.

“Cuddle,” she translates for him. “I told him that, when you get back, the three of us can have a cuddle, if he wants,” she explains.

“Sounds great,” John nods, reaching out to boop Joel’s nose, who swats his hand away with a glare. “Okay, no booping,” he nods solemnly, before holding out his hands. “Come on, bathroom time,” he declares. “You and I are gonna get ourselves cleaned up and dressed and see Doc Trent, and when we get back, you can have some Mommy cuddles, alright?”

“Maman cuddles,” Joel corrects him as he climbs from Lise’s lap.

“Right, sorry, Maman,” John nods gravely, though he does roll his eyes at Lise, when Joel isn’t looking.

It’s funny. Their son will switch back and forth, between Daddy and Papa, for John. Doesn’t seem to care which one is used in reference to him. But with Lise, it always has to be Maman. Maybe because she uses it for herself constantly, always has, whereas John wasn’t that happy with Papa, in the beginning. Now, whenever someone calls her Joel’s mommy, the boy will correct them. It’s kind of cute, Lise thinks. She’d have been fine, if he’d ended up using the English word. Will be, if he decides to do so, later. But Maman, it’s, special, for her. Feels different, somehow. Maybe because it’s the word she grew up with, the one she used for her own mother.

* * *

She tilts her head before reaching out to grab a pack of diapers. Purses her lips and checks the weight restrictions.

Exactly what size was Joel wearing, at one and a half? Lise frowns and allows a sigh to escape her before she gets out her phone and texts Ruya. Apologizes for not thinking of it when she’d been over, but she needs to know what size diapers Hadida wears, if Ruya wants her to pick some up.

The kids have been sick. Fatin and his little sister, that is. Adding to that the fact that Hanif has been visiting with his brother-in-law and his family, Ruya had been struggling, on her own. So Lise offered to help out. The other woman hadn’t allowed her to help clean the house, so she’d instead said she’d do a grocery run for her, while Joel has his bi-weekly Sister Sitting afternoon.

It was Kelly’s idea, when Joel had started growing comfortable, at daycare. She suggested that she pick him up one day every other week and the two of them hang out. Usually at their house, while John and Lise are still at work. Though Kelly has taken him on some outings, as well. To the park, most often, but a few weeks ago, they went to the petting zoo, and Kelly asked if it would be alright if she took him to the lake the next time.

Joel seems to rather enjoy those afternoons. He gets extremely upset, if Kelly cancels, or their afternoon is cut short by whatever emergency there may be. And Lise appreciates the younger woman’s effort with the toddler. She was worried that once Joel outgrew the ‘cutesy baby’ stage, Kelly would lose interest in him, but so far, she hasn’t. Lise is well aware of their age gap being enormous and of Kelly probably getting mistaken for Joel’s mother when they’re out in public, but she hasn’t heard Kelly complain about it.

“Excuse me.”

Lise jumps and whirls around. Finds herself looking at a black teen that shifts nervously on his feet.

“Sorry, I, I didn’t mean to, spook you,” he apologizes. Casts a look at the aisle behind them. She went to pick up some baby food while she waits for Ruya to text her back.

“It’s fine,” she shakes her head. Watches the boy shift nervously again and he lowers his hands, a defeated look crossing his face.

“Do you need help?” she offers and his face lights up before he flushes in embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he nods. “My sister, she’s been in an accident, and now I gotta watch my niece, and, I got no idea where to even start,” he shakes his head. “I mean, whose idea was putting carrots and spinach together?”

Lise lets out a soft laugh at that and takes a step aside to let another customer pass.

“I think you’ve gotten mixed up,” she tells him. At the boy’s confused look, Lise points at the two glasses he’s holding.

“One of those is for four month olds, the other for nine,” she points out.

“Ah, damn,” the boy sighs, his eyes widening. “Ah, sorry,” he apologizes and Lise waves him off with a smile.

“It’s fine,” she tells him. “I get it. This stuff is confusing,” she nods. “Do you know how old your niece is?”

“Ah, five months,” the boy tells her. “Her name is Janice. You wanna see a picture?” he asks, and before Lise can answer, he’s juggling the cereal glasses in one arm as he digs out his phone. Unlocks it and pulls up the picture gallery and shows her the picture of a grinning baby.

“She’s precious,” Lise smiles as he pulls his phone back.

“Yeah,” the teen nods. “I’m just glad she wasn’t in the car,” he shakes his head.

“Do you still want help, finding food for her?” Lise asks him and the boy nods, a relieved look crossing his face.

She helps him pick some baby cereal that Joel used to like, at that age. By the time she’s done, Ruya has answered, and she takes the boy - Ramon, he’s told her - to the diapers. Grabs a packet for Ruya, along with wipes, and then points Ramon in the direction of the size that will probably fit his niece.

“Hey, uh, thanks. I, I really appreciate it,” the boy tells her, shifting nervously. “You, looked like you knew your stuff, and I’m glad I asked you.”

“Me, too,” Lise smiles at him. “I hope your sister gets better quickly.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ramon nods. “She got like, a concussion? And something wrong, with her shoulder. She needs surgery, they’re gonna do that tomorrow.”

Lise watches him, searches his face.

“Do you have anyone, who can help you? With, Janice, I mean,” she asks him.

“Ah, yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, no, I got an older brother. He’s just workin’, right now, so I had to pick the stuff up,” he tells her. She’s not entirely sure if she believes that story. He didn’t mention another sibling before now, but then again, they’ve only just met, and he was looking for advice from her.

“Alright,” Lise nods. “And remember, don’t-”

“Put them in the microwave with the lid on,” Ramon repeats. “Yeah, not making that mistake. Thanks, Miss.”

“You’re welcome,” Lise smiles at him and watches him take his cart and head for the registers before she shakes her head and consults the list of stuff Ruya needs her to pick up again.

* * *

Lise lets out a loud moan before reaching up and pressing her hand over her mouth, slightly embarrassed.

John’s hands still on her shoulder as she flushes brightly.

“You okay?” he asks as he gently strokes the back of her neck, stopping the massage he’d been giving her just moments ago.

“Uh-huh,” Lise nods. Swallows, hard. “That just felt really good.”

“Want me to continue?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yes,” she nods and reaches up to cover the hand still on her shoulder with her own. “Though maybe not right now,” she adds with a defeated sigh as she glares at the scattered paperwork still littering their dining table. Tries to think of when the last night was, that she didn’t pour over this instead of going to bed earlier.

Never mind that she is apparently getting just a tad frustrated, sexually. The last time John and her had time for sex, that’s been, a while. They have tried, sure, but either Joel interrupted, or one of them got called out, or either of them realized just how tired they actually were and sleep had been a bigger priority.

“You may have a point, there,” he chuckles and lets his hands fall away. She feels him press a kiss to her hair and then he walks around the table to sit down. Shifts and tilts his head as he watches her intently.

“Are you trying to glare me into going to bed?” Lise asks him as she returns to the casefile.

“No,” John answers after a beat. “Wanna throw around some ideas?” he suggests and Lise looks up at him in surprise.

“I could use some help with my own case,” he admits, drawing a soft laugh from her.

“Alright,” she nods and grabs a blank notepad. Tears a page off and hands it to him as John gets himself a pen to write down any questions and ideas.

“I’m all ears,” he declares as he’s gotten situated again.

“Okay,” Lise nods and takes her glass of wine from dinner. Takes a sip as she tries to think of where to start. “Series of break-ins. They seem random at first glance.”

“First glance?” John asks and she lets out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know,” Lise shrugs. “It feels like, there is something there that I am missing. They may actually be random, and I’m just, paranoid,” she tells him. It wouldn’t surprise her, at this point. She’s grasping at straws, trying to come up with something, anything, and it makes her mind go in circles. Makes her brain feel like a hamster on a wheel, doing the same thing over and over again. Isn’t that part of that definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different outcome?

“Okay,” John nods. Leans back and crosses his hands behind his head.

“Items stolen include small electronics, jewelry, little things. Easy to grab and dash away with. Nothing that would require a get-away car,” she continues. Pauses, her brows dipping as something in the back of her mind stirs.

“Lise?”

“Sh,” she shushes him as John says her name. Sits bolt upright and starts digging through the pictures of the crime scenes.

Nothing at the first. Nor at the second. The third location has the tail end of a gray van in one of its pictures. Nothing at the fourth. At the fifth, what seems to be the same van, from the side, partially in view in a picture from the basement entry point. Sixth, seventh, eighth, they all have the van.

“Can you read that?” she asks, handing John one of the better images. It has the side of the van, though at a bad angle.

“Looks like, some kind of handyman,” he frowns. “How many of those drive gray vans?”

“More than one, I’m sure,” Lise shakes her head and grabs her laptop to look through the digital images. Zooms in on the one she gave John.

“That’s on the scenes?”

“Hm,” she hums. “I think I saw it at the, fourth? Maybe fifth, I have to check. The only reason I remember is because our washing machine was acting up at the time,” she tells him.

“And you came up with it all by yourself,” John grins at her, making Lise roll her eyes at him and stick her tongue out. The last thing she needs is for John to praise her on her detective skills.

“Okay, I have something I can check tomorrow,” she declares when she finds she’s not going anywhere with this right now. “Your turn,” she nods as she closes her computer again.

“Thanks,” he nods, before starting to give her the outline details of the case of burglaries he’s been working on with Larren.

* * *

Joel jumps and lets out a surprised gasp before reaching for Lise. She bends down and picks him up, rubbing her hand down his back.

“C’est bien,” she tells him. “Ça t’a fait peur, mon ange?” she asks as she kisses his cheek, Joel nodding before he hides his face against her shoulder in shyness and embarrassment.

Truth be told, her own heart jumped at the sound of the car alarm going off outside.

Fatin has his nose pressed to the window, trying to look out, but Ruya pulls him back and murmurs to him in Arabic. The boy pouts and flops back down onto the floor, returning the wooden blocks the boys were playing with, before the loud interruption.

“That’s not your car, is it?” Lise asks Ruya, who shakes her head.

“No, Hanif, he took car to work,” she answers. Frowns, for a moment before letting a sigh pass her lips. She holds out her hands for Joel, who smiles at her, but shakes his head. Slowly climbs off of Lise and joins Fatin again.

“Hanif, he wanted to ask. Maybe, John can make more blocks?” Ruya asks with a slight tilt of her head at the boys. “We pay, of course-”

“Nonsense,” Lise quickly interrupts the offer of money. The wooden blocks the boys are currently playing with were a gift from John, for Fatin’s birthday. He’d grown annoyed at finding that most of the age appropriate sets were either colorful messes, or only had square and rectangular blocks, no cylinders, nor prisms, when they’d been looking for a set for Joel. So he’d decided to make one. He has the woodworking tools, and most of the material was from scrap material that came from other projects and he most likely would only have thrown away.

He’s been doing a lot of that, lately. Woodworking, that is. Has been showing Joel some things, as well. He doesn’t let him near the power tools or machines, and Lise’s blood pressure appreciates that. But he lets him help sand and draw lines and measure things for him. And Joel loves the time he has with his dad, too.

“They were a gift, you’re not paying for them,” Lise insists at Ruya’s look. “I’ll ask John, if he thinks he has time to make more, and I’m sure we can work something out in regards to ‘compensation’,” she adds when Ruya glares at her.

“Maybe,” the brown woman nods. Gets up and checks on her daughter, who’s apparently still sleeping.

“You and John,” she starts as she sits down again. Watches the boys, for a moment, before lowering her voice further. “You think you maybe want another baby?”

Lise lets out a soft cough of surprise and stares at her friend at the sudden question.

“Uh,” she mutters and runs her hand through her hair. “I, I’m, not sure,” she decides on an answer. “Why?” she asks, searching Ruya’s face. The other woman quickly shakes her head no.

“No, I’m not,” she tells Lise. “But Hanif, he told me, he want another baby,” she adds with a soft sigh.

“And you don’t?” Lise asks her as she shifts on the couch. Twists her body a little, so she is facing Ruya, but can keep an eye on her son, as well. Right now, Fatin and him are playing quietly with each other, but past experience has taught her that it can be a matter of seconds before one of them throws a tantrum or they start arguing and it escalates.

“I don’t know,” Ruya sighs. “Maybe? But, not now. Later, maybe, when children are a little older,” she says with a soft nod.

“Hm,” Lise hums. Watches her son as he picks up a block and hands it to Fatin wordlessly before he goes in search of another, for himself.

She’s been mulling over the idea of perhaps having another child. But she hasn’t really talked to John about it, not yet. Mostly because she’s not sure, about her own feelings on this. There are times when she wants another baby, and others where she thinks that the mere idea is crazy.

She loves Joel. And she enjoyed her time with him immensely, when he was a baby. Loved seeing him grow and develop his personality. Still adores doing that, to this day. Her son never fails to surprise her. Sometimes it’s more of a bad surprise, like when he picked up one of Kelly’s curses and screamed it in Lise’s face as she was getting him ready for bed and he wanted to stay up. But other times, he just absolutely makes her melt. Like when he suddenly declared that he loves her when they were cuddling the other day, without any prompting. Or how he always wants to share his sweets with John and her, and sometimes even the cat. And how worried he was when they had to take Moose to the vet because she was retching and the cat had to stay the night. He’d made her a card so she could get better soon, and Moose had thanked him by thoroughly shredding it, prompting not a sobbing meltdown, but a giggling laugh from Joel, followed by the declaration that she was all better.

When she got pregnant with Joel, it had only been John and her. Their decision to have a child, that had only really impacted the both of them, and maybe Kelly. Now, it’ll have a huge impact on their son, as well. And Lise is worried about suddenly having two kids and ending up having to choose one over the other at times.

Plus, she has no idea what John thinks, about this. If he wants another child, or if he is done. He had Kelly to watch grow up, as well, so this is kind of a, bonus round, already, with Joel. One he said he was pretty sure he’d never get in the first place, so he considers everything a gift.

And there is the fact that, upon deciding that they were going to try, it took her months, almost a whole year, to get pregnant with Joel in the first place. And now she’s even older, and Lise doesn’t think that that bit will work in her favor one bit. Never mind that she had a termination a little over two years ago, when Joel had still been a baby. Not that those generally have an effect, on your fertility, but it does feel like another point against doing this again. They had that chance, at a second child, and Lise decided that it wasn’t the right time. That it was too inconvenient, would have been too much work, and now she is contemplating the possibility of actually having another child? It feels, hypocritical, in a way.

If they do, if they end up deciding that they want another child, then things definitely have to change. Right now, John and her are already running into issues, with both of them working such a high-demanding job as being a police detective is. She doesn’t like how they have started to rely on Kelly as emergency help. Doesn’t like how many ‘emergencies’ there have been, lately, either. If she’s to have another child, that needs to get figured out first, before they start trying, and something tells Lise it won’t be an easy thing.

* * *

Her head is absolutely throbbing in pain. Her left eye opens, bright light shining into it and it makes her let out a pained gasp. Makes her squeeze her eyes shut and try to turn her head, only she can’t. Something is holding it in place, pressing against her forehead, and Lise feels panic bubble up inside.

“Easy, easy, you’re alright. Miss, you’re okay, it’s okay!” someone shouts and she whimpers. Tries to reach up to touch her head.

The movement seems to flip a switch, and suddenly, everything hurts, her entire body aches all over. Her head is the worst, blinding headache threatening to split her skull, but her complete left side isn’t too far behind.

“I know,” a female voice mutters and there’s more of that blinding light, in her right eye this time.

“Pupils equal and reactive,” the same voice declares.

“Spontaneous movement to the extremities,” someone else says as she tries to jerk her leg away as sharp pain shoots up it.

“Miss, can you open your eyes?”

Someone is pressing down on her sternum, rubbing along it. It makes her let out a pained groan and she tries to fend off the hand, but judging from the chuckle her movement earns her, she’s doing a pretty bad job of it. She feels someone grab her wrist, hold it gently in their hand. Their skin is nice, warm.

She tries to open her eyes, but the instant she does, it feels as if someone’s set of a stick of dynamite in her skull. She uses her free arm to reach up and cover her eyes, relaxing a little.

“Concussion?”

“Definitely,” someone answers. She feels hands press along her ribcage, tearing a pained gasp from her.

“Possible broken ribs, as well,” the female voice that checked her eyes says.

“Miss, anywhere that’s especially painful?” a new voice asks, patting down her legs. Her bare legs. It makes her shoot up, or at least attempt to.

“Woah, easy, easy!”

“Can I get some soft restraints, please!” the guy yells out as she feels herself being pressed down again.

“What? No!” the female voice exclaims. “Give her a moment to come to,” she says and Lise almost sobs in relief. Decides that she likes whoever that voice belongs to.

Hospital, she suddenly thinks. She’s, she’s at the hospital.

“Joel,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering as she tries to open them again.

“What’s that?”

“No idea,” the female voice answers. “Joel?” she repeats and Lise nods, a wave of absolute pain making her gasp. Okay, nodding, bad idea.

“Who’s Joel? Was he in the car, with you?”

Car? She wasn’t in any car. She was at work. There was a, a phone call. Someone… Lise frowns and shakes her head. Remembering hurts.

“No?” the doctor presses. Lise hears a ripping sound and the vice-like grip on her forehead lets up. “I released your head. You’re still in a neck brace, but you can move it a little now,” the woman tells her and Lise opens her eyes. Squints, at her.

“Hi there,” she greets her. “Can you tell us your name?”

Lise reaches down, touches the belt of her pants, fumbling along it.

“We took your badge off when we were doing your exam,” one of the ER doctors tells her. “You got any other ID, with you?”

“Manteau,” Lise croaxes and throws her arm back over her eyes. Talking is hard and it makes the pain in her head explode again.

“Man-what now?”

“Vous êtes franco?” a new voice chimes in, and she almost lets out a sob of relief. Nods, before remembering that that’s a bad idea.

“She said coat, her ID is in her coat,” an accented voice translates. There’s some rustling.

“Lise Delorme, Algonquin Bay Police,” the guy that asked for the restraints declares. “That you?”

“It has a photo, you dumbass,” the female doctor chides her colleague. “Lise, who’s Joel?”

“Mon fils,” she answers, once she manages to wrap her head around the concept of words.

“He’s her son,” the woman with the accent translates. “Lise, was Joel, was he in the car with you?”

She doesn’t know. She actually cannot remember, if she was alone, if she was the one driving. If John was with her and they were on their way home. If she went to pick Joel up, from daycare. The last thing she remembers, it’s her phone ringing on her desk and Szelagy throwing a paper ball at her as she stuck out her tongue at him before she went to answer her phone.

And John, as he shakes his head at them, chuckling at their antics.

Everything after that, it’s all empty. A gaping black void, where her memory is supposed to be. She has no recollection, of getting into any car at all, and the thought that she may have been driving with Joel in the car, and no one knowing about him, it freaks her out. Why can’t she just remember? She needs to remember, where is Joel?

“Sh, it’s okay,” the woman with the French accent says as she starts to cry in pain and fear and confusion. “Sh, ca va aller. Nous allons vous aider, c’est bien. Ca ira, je vous promets.”

* * *

The sound of the door to her room opening wakes her. Or maybe it was the knock that probably preceded it, Lise isn’t sure. She frowns and opens her eyes briefly, before closing them again as she hears John’s footsteps approach.

She feels John touch her head gently. Brush back her hair from her forehead and touch his lips to the crown of her head.

She shifts slightly and reaches up to rub a hand over her eyes. She’s so tired. So incredibly tired, even though she’s been doing nothing but sleep for the past… What time is it, exactly?

“Hey,” he greets her, his voice soft as he pulls up a chair and sits down next to her bed. The sun is low. Judging from his stubble, it’s late, not early.

Look at that, her brain is starting to work again. Lise lets out a humorless chuckle at the thought and tries to push herself into somewhat of an upright position.

“Ah, hang on,” John mutters and grabs the remote, pulling up the back of the bed to help her. She relaxes back against it, giving him a thankful look and he takes her hand, squeezing it gently.

“How you feeling?” he asks and Lise clears her throat.

“Better,” she tells him. “I think,” she adds. Everything is still sort of, hazy. She’s still tired. Does nothing, besides sleeping, really. The nurses keep waking her every couple of hours. Shine a light in her eyes that makes her flinch and get her to drink something. Make her count up from one number, and then back from another. Show her pictures of objects she’s supposed to name.

She ate something, earlier. A, sandwich, she thinks. She’s not sure, if that was the only meal they offered her, much to her chagrin. She still gets, weird blank spots, in her memory. Is still losing time sometimes.

Like now. The sandwich may have been breakfast, in which case she can’t remember lunch. Or she may have not liked what was offered for lunch and they brought her this, instead. But it is the only meal she can remember in either case, so she’s definitely missing one.

John watches her intently. Searches her face as he lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Lise’s. Well, the side, really, because she still has her IV in the back. Just as a, precaution.

She still can’t remember the accident. Can’t recall getting into her car at all. They are saying that it may stay that way, that there’s a chance she won’t recover those memories. Part of Lise thinks it may be better, that way. It is scary, yes, to have almost an hour of her life missing from her recollections, but she thinks when it comes to choosing between being able to recall the accident and being traumatized by it, and not remembering it, she prefers black nothingness.

At least she knows it wasn’t her fault. She hasn’t seen the CCTV video, thinks she doesn’t ever want to. John told her he saw what was left of the car and said she’d be better off, not looking at it. It wasn’t her car, but one of the unmarked ones at the station. She’d checked it out to drive to Sudbury in order to corroborate a witness statement in person when another car had come out of nowhere and rammed into the driver’s side of hers. She’s lucky she walked away relatively unscathed. Besides her massive concussion, she has bruised ribs, a twisted ankle, burn from the airbag across one side of her face and a massive bruise and cut from the seatbelt. Her body aches all over, yes, and there are various cuts and bruises, from the glass and her body being slammed against the interior of her car, but all things considered, she got extremely lucky.

The other driver is still in the ICU, as far as Lise knows. They think he had a heart attack, that that’s why he lost control. There’s CCTV footage before the impact that shows his car just going every which way, apparently.

“How’s Joel?” Lise asks, and hears John sigh.

“Unhappy,” he replies truthfully. “Restless, fussy, scared… He misses you, a lot,” he tells her. It makes Lise swallow thickly.

John hesitates, before drawing a slow breath.

“I know we said that she wouldn’t have any unsupervised interactions, for a while-”

“John,” Lise cuts him off. “Non,” she moves to shake her head but it sends a stab of pain through her skull. Makes her reach up and cradle it, waiting for the pain and nausea to pass. “My mother is not getting unsupervised visits with Joel.”

“Alright,” he nods. “That means I’m staying home, until you are discharged.”

“John,” Lise sighs.

“Emilie called me at work today,” he interrupts a fresh protest.

Emilie. The name is familiar, though it takes Lise a moment to connect it to Joel’s nursery teacher.

“He’s been very, particular, about his rituals. I get it, he’s scared, he needs the security that comes from familiar proceedings. Needs to feel secure and that he knows what is coming. But with other kids around, that’s not a guarantee,” he shrugs. “Anyways, apparently, they were getting ready to go outside before snacktime, and they have a new aide who’s shadowing Sarah, and she tried to help Joel get dressed. Only she put his hat on before his scarf, and he completely lost it. Emilie said she took him back into the napping area and tried to calm him down, help him get settled again, but it didn’t work, so she had to call and I had to pick him up.”

“Oh God,” Lise breathes and closes her eyes, trying to fight back tears.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad,” John tells her and moves to sit on her bed. Pulls her into a gentle hug and Lise rests her forehead against his shoulder, the material of his shirt cool against her skin. “But, you need to know, and I want you to understand that me bringing up your mother isn’t a way for me to, cut corners or be lazy.”

“I already knew that,” she murmurs and leans back against her pillows. Takes a moment and reaches up to cradle his cheek, his stubble rough against the skin of her palm. “But as much as I want to, I still don’t trust her, with him,” she admits, blinking to keep her tears down.

She hasn’t forgotten what her mother, what her parents did, when Joel had only been a baby. Nor has she forgiven them. He’d been a baby, not even ten months old, and they’d thought it was appropriate to smack him as a way of disciplining him.

And Lise hasn’t forgiven herself for missing what was happening for weeks, possibly months, either. The only reason that her mother is allowed to see Joel now, is because she’d run into her picking up her birth control at the pharmacy two months ago. They’d talked briefly and it had been extremely awkward, but it had made Lise realize how much she missed her. So she’s slowly been opening their lives to her parents again, with John’s consent, and firm rules in place. Her parents are not allowed to be alone with Joel, for the time being. Until both John and her feel comfortable with it. If either one of them gets a bad feeling about the interactions, or if Joel indicates he is uncomfortable, they’ll stop. So far, he seems to be enjoying the brief visits. Doesn’t seem confused, as to why he didn’t see her parents for a while. They have told him that his grandparents babysat him, when he was a baby, but haven’t given him a reason as to why that stopped. On one hand, Lise is relieved that he doesn’t seem to remember being hurt by them. And she doesn’t want to scare him, by bringing it up, but at the same time, she needs to make sure that it won’t ever happen again. So far, asking Joel about the visits has been a balancing act, and Lise knows the boy can tell she’s worried and tense, though he doesn’t know why.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and watches as John shakes his head.

“Not your fault,” he tells her. Strokes her cheek and leans in for a quick kiss. “I’ll talk to the nurses, see if maybe, I can bring Joel around tomorrow. Seeing you may do him some good.”

“Yes, please,” Lise nods. She misses the little guy. They tried face-timing, but that had only upset him even more.

“Anything you need me to bring, tomorrow?” John asks as he gets up to check her closet, see how many spare clothes she has left. Lise frowns at the way he does it, so matter-of-factly, like it’s a routine, before she remembers. Remembers Catherine and her hospitalizations. He probably learned how to do this stuff, then.

“I don’t think so,” she answers and tries to bite back a yawn. John’s face softens as he returns to her side.

“I’ll let you sleep, now,” he tells her and Lise quickly grabs his hand, panic welling up inside of her.

“No,” she shakes her head, ignoring the pain it sends through her skull. “Please, stay,” she mutters.

“You gotta rest,” he replies, but does sit back down. Lise can feel her eyelids growing heavy and she tries to fight off sleep, but in the end, she has to give in. Falls asleep to John murmuring how much he loves her as he holds her hand.

* * *

“Shveuh-”

“Joel,” Lise cuts off her son, pulling a face. “Ne parles pas avec la bouche pleine, s’il te plait,” she tells him and taps his chin.

The boy frowns at her and chews briefly before swallowing.

“J’veux jouer avec Moo,” he says, twisting in his chair to look at where the cat is lounging on the floor, batting at the doorstop every once in a while.

“Tu peux le faire après avoir fini ton petit-déjeuner,” Lise nods. “Si elle te laisser,” she adds, on second thought. Moose has been kind of cross, with him, for dumping his drink on her by accident. He’d been trying to have a drink and she’s licked his naked foot, making him giggle and jerk and the cat had ended up with apple juice all over herself. Which, in turn, had meant a bath, that she hadn’t appreciated much, either.

If Moose doesn’t want anything to do with him again, Lise thinks she may take Joel to the park. She’s feeling much better, an outing will do both of them some good. She just had to make sure her phone is charged, so she can call a cab if she gets too tired to drive. She still runs out of energy quickly, sometimes surprising her when she realizes that she’s about to crash if she doesn’t get some rest soon.

Joel seems to enjoy being home, with her. For the time being. John had stayed off work for the first two days she was home, just to make sure she was alright, and they’d still send Joel to daycare for the morning, but picked him up before naptime both days. Now that John is back at work and Lise feels up for it, she’s let Joel stay home with her. He seemed like he needed it, too.

“Maman,” Joel says, tugging on her shirt to catch her attention.

“Desolée,” she responds and gives a slight shake of her head to clear it. “T’as fini?” she asks when she sees his empty bowl.

“Can I have ‘sert?” he asks, trying his puppy look on her and making her bite back a giggle.

“Non,” she tells him. “C’est pour le déjeuner,” she reminds him. “Tu peux avoir des fruit, si tu veux,” she offers instead and gets up to check the fridge. “Il y a des framboises et des bleuets, ou une orange,” she tells him, tilting her head.

Joel comes over and stands on his tiptoes, trying to see. She picks up the small containers of raspberries and blueberries and shows them to him. Watches as he pulls a face.

“Banane?” he asks and Lise nods, nodding towards the counter.

“Prends en un, alors,” she says and puts the berries back in the fridge before closing it. Finds Joel struggling with peeling the banana he grabbed. She decides to give him a moment and goes to clear their bowls from the table in the meantime. When she has them rinsed and put in the dishwasher, Joel is pouting and holding out the banana to her. Lise takes it and starts peeling it before handing it back, so he can finish.

“Uh, non,” she steps in his way when he goes to wander off with the food. “A la table, s’il te plaît,” she reminds him, directing him to sit down again. “Merci,” Lise murmurs and kisses his hair when he sits down and starts happily munching away on his fruit, grinning at her and making her laugh at him.

“T’es chanceux tu es mignon,” she shakes her head at him.

Once he’s done and has washed his hands, Joel has already changed his mind, about playing with the cat. Maybe because she’s gone into hiding, again. Lise suspects she’s in the cat tower, or under her and John’s bed, where Joel won’t check.

He’s not allowed in their bedroom unsupervised and Lise won’t take him to check for Moose. And Joel avoids the cat tree on his own. A remnant of him having stuck his hand in there once and Moose taking a swipe at him. It had been one of the few times where she’d actually hurt him, and it served as a sharp reminder for Joel.

Generally, the cat has been very good, with him. She seems to like him, except for the times when she’s sulking. Usually is happy enough, to play with him, and most of the time, when she does bat at him, she has her claws retracted. The only times when she hadn’t had been the cat tree incident and when Joel had bitten her tail.

Lise isn’t proud of that moment. He’d been grabbing Moose’s tail before and she usually removed him when he did, or relocated the cat, to prevent either one of them from getting hurt. But she’d been making dinner and when she’d taken a step in his direction, Joel had let go of the cat on his own, so she’d thought it would be fine. It hadn’t been. She’d turned her back and the next thing she’s heard had been an indignant hiss, followed by Joel’s shriek of pain. She’d seen Moose dart off, fur standing on end as Lise had hurried over to her son, and found two small scratches on the side of his head. He’d been almost two, back then.

She finds herself on the floor with Joel, in the boy’s room. He’s gotten out his Lego Duplo zoo set Lise’s parents gave him for Christmas and wants to set up a zoo with her. It’s kind of fun, and Joel keeps coming back to sit in her lap and cuddle in-between setting things up and playing with the pieces.

He seems, calmer, to her. Doesn’t get as angry when something doesn’t work out the way he wants it to. He used to have an extremely short temper, even for someone his age, but it's been slowly improving.

“Joel?” Lise murmurs when he’s hugging her again.

“Je veux te dire quelque chose, mon ange,” she tells him and kisses his cheek, gently directing him to look at her. “Je t’aime, tu sais? Et papa, il t’aime aussi.”

“Je sais,” Joel nods, frowning down at the zookeeper in his hand before he holds it out to her, unable to get the hat back on the piece. Lise takes it and puts it on, but keeps it in her own hands for a moment.

“Je sais que… Papa et moi, nous sommes des adultes, non? Et parfois, des adultes, ils se disputent. Tu comprends?”

Joel furrows his brows, poking at her cheek.

“Mais, papa t’aime,” he says.

“Oui, il m’aime. Et je l’aime tellement, aussi. Je l’aime beaucoup, juste comme je t’aime,” she nods. Hesitates, for a moment, looking for the right words.

“Quand papa et moi nous disputons, ça ne change pas que nous t’aimons,” she tells him. “Nous ne sommes pas fâchés avec toi, je te promets, Joel. Et peu importe ce qui se passe, je t'aimerai toujours. Papa et moi, nous t’aimerons toujours. T’es notre fils, notre ange.”

Joel sticks out his lower lip, worries at it.

“No matter what happens, Papa and I will always love you,” she repeats in English, wanting him to really understand her. “When we fight, we’re upset, with each other. But not with you. You’re our son, nothing can ever change that. Nothing will ever change that I love you as much as the world is big.”

“Laure’s maman elle a dit le même,” Joel frowns, looking at her with his big eyes. “Mais elle est toujours partie.”

“Ey, non,” Lise quickly shakes her head and wraps him up in her arms, showering his face in kisses. “Je ne partirai jamais. I won’t ever leave you,” she insists. “Je t’aime trop pour ca,” she shakes her head and smoothes his hair back from his face.

Joel seems to mull what she said over before he wraps his little arms around her neck, pulling Lise into a tight hug. She presses a soft kiss to his shoulder and rubs her hand down his back soothingly, allowing him to hold on for as long as he needs to.

* * *

Lise shifts, her arms crossed over her chest.

At least he doesn’t look like an extra in a horror movie anymore, she thinks, watching the teen on the other side of the glass. When he’d been brought here by the uniforms, the shirt he had on had been soaked with blood. Ident has processed him. Has taken his clothes and given him some scrubs. Took samples, of the blood beneath his fingernails, and all over his body.

In Interrogation, Larren shifts. Reaches up to brush her hair behind her ear, before she picks up one of the two paper cups on the table, and takes a sip of whatever it is that’s inside. Lise thinks it may be cocoa. They usually give kids some, when it’s cold out, to warm them up. The kid was shivering, earlier. Larren brought him one of their thin blankets and when he didn’t move, she’d draped it over him carefully. It’s slipped down his narrow shoulders again, and he’s made no move to pull it back up.

The door to observation opens and McLeod sticks his head in. She tilts her head at the man and he steps inside, holding out a thin file, to her.

“Do I want to know?” she asks, her gut churning. It has, since she first laid eyes on the kid. Something inside of her is, coiling up, twisting into itself.

“It’s gruesome,” the man nods, his brows dipping as he watches the child. “Andrew Bowman. He had a younger sister, Nancy, and a baby brother, Todd.”

“Had,” Lise breathes and clenches her eyes shut at the word. She hadn’t held out much hope, after seeing the state of the kid’s clothes, but still, hearing it confirmed, it’s a punch in the gut.

“Parents, too,” McLeod says, his voice soft. “You know, sometimes I get kind of, melancholic. You know. Not having kids. But if that’s the result…” he trails off. “Best case scenario, he lost his entire family today, and found them. Saw their dead bodies. Worst case…”

“Yeah,” Lise swallows thickly. Forces herself, to tear her eyes away from the boy and her colleague, and opens the folder, instantly regretting her actions.

She has seen some gruesome stuff. Car accident victims, parts of their body obliterated by the forces involved. Katie Pine’s body had been bad, too. And the headless biker, as well. But this, this is just… The dominant color in all the images is red. Blood splatter practically everywhere, where it’s not in pools on the floor.

“Massive overkill,” she mutters. “Whoever did this… they must have been seething with rage,” she shakes her head.

“Maybe don’t,” McLeod warns her when she gets further into the pictures. “They didn’t, go easy on the baby,” he says and for once, Lise is thankful for his brand of chauvinism. Judging from the toys she’s seen in other pictures, the baby should be around one, one and a half, maybe. There is a chance that she won’t be able to help herself and see Joel, see her own child in this one’s stead.

“I’ll go in,” she says and closes the file. Pauses, and touches McLeod’s arm. The man gives her a brief look before he returns his focus on the scene inside the interrogation room.

As Lise steps inside, she sees Andrew’s eyes dart over to the door, before they slide over her, and he returns to wordlessly staring at the wall.

She touches Larren’s shoulder and hands her the file. Leans in and lowers her voice.

“Don’t let him see your reaction,” she whispers, hoping that it will be enough warning for the other woman. Her colleague swallows and inclines her head. Gets up and sits down in the chair further away from Andrew and turns so she’s facing the corner of the room at her back. If he looks at her, he’ll only be able to see a quarter profile.

She really, really hopes that this, this wasn’t him.

“Hello Andrew,” she introduces herself as she sits down. “My name is Lise Delorme. I’m a Detective, with the Algonquin Bay Police.”

To her surprise, the boy look at her, his brows creasing slightly.

“You have an accent,” he says and she has to bite back her surprise.

“Yes,” Lise nods, her lips tugging into a soft smile. “My parents are both Franco-Canadienne. I grew up in town, but we only spoke French at home.”

Andrew’s shoulders moves briefly at that, twitch upwards.

“I don’t have a home anymore,” he says and looks away again, the same empty expression settling on his feature that Lise has been finding so intensely unsettling.

Next to her, Larren moves and puts down the file again. Lise casts a glance at her. She looks, composed, at first glance. She can see the way the other woman has her jaw clenched, can see that she’s a bit paler than usual. But that’s what she can see, as someone who knows Larren.

“Why do you think you don’t have a home anymore, Andrew?” she asks him. Tries to keep her voice soft, gentle. He must be traumatized beyond belief, from what that house looked like.

Andrew gives a one-sided shrug.

“They’re all dead,” he states, matter-of-factly, and that something in her gut, it churns again.

All. So he knows that his entire family was wiped out. He has at least seen all their bodies.

“Andrew, do you remember, why you were out in the street?” Larren asks him, watching the boy’s face. It’s good, pulling his attention away from the house, from the scene, and the bodies.

The teen slowly shakes his head no. Reaches up and touches his fingers to his forehead, his brows creasing.

“Were you, looking for someone? Or walking away, from someone?” Larren inquires gently.

“I forgot my coat, didn’t I?” Andrew suddenly asks, his green eyes meeting Lise’s dark ones. “Father said to wear a coat, if I went out.”

“You weren’t wearing one when the police saw you, no,” Lise confirms. If he had, they may have not seen the blood. May have mistaken the splatter on his pants for paint, or some random pattern. It was really the boy’s yellow shirt, the front soaked, that drew the attention of the patrol.

“He’ll be mad,” Andrew mutters and looks away again. Lise finds herself biting back the comment that no, his father won’t be mad, because he can’t be anything anymore.

She exchanges a look with Larren, open to any suggestions.

“Andrew,” the woman calls his attention. When he fails to react, she allows a soft sigh to pass her lips. “Does your father get mad a lot?” she probes. Again, that one-armed shrug.

“What about your siblings? Did they get mad at you?”

“No,” Andrew says, frowning at Larren in confusion, as if he can’t work out why she’s asking that.

“Did you get mad at them?” the other woman persists gently.

“No,” the boy answers, in the same calm tone as before.

“Andrew,” Lise starts, shifting in her seat. “Something really bad happened. And we are trying to figure out what it was, but we need your help to do that, okay?” she tries. Andrew keeps watching Larren, his attention fixed on her.

“Do you remember what you did, today?” Larren asks him. “Could you go through all of it, with us? Tell us, about your day. When you got up, what you had for breakfast, if your parents were there, what they said-”

“Do you want to know why I did it?”

Lise’s heart slams in her chest, stuttering before it begins to race. Next to her, Larren’s breath escapes the other woman in a rush.

“Why you did, what?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

“Killed them,” Andrew shrugs, tilting his head. Looks over to Lise, his eyes scanning her face. “You know they didn’t even hear it, when I was upstairs? They were so busy arguing, they didn’t even hear me kill their kids.”

“Andrew,” Lise starts, her mind whirling. “Do you think you could tell us, what happened at home, today?”

“I killed them,” he shrugs again. His eyes land on the table and his face suddenly lights up at the sight of the paper cup. He reaches out and carefully cradles it in his hands, inhaling the aroma of the hot chocolate, before he takes a sip. When he lowers the cup Lise finds herself horrified at the smile that’s on his lips as Andrew leans back in his chair and hums softly to himself.

This, is going to be a long, long day, she thinks, mortified at her own calmness.

* * *

She watches John rub a hand over his face before he lifts the beer to his lips and takes a sip. Lowers the bottle again and closes his eyes, for a moment, throat working as he swallows.

“I’m done,” Lise murmurs with a shake of her head before hiding her face in her hands in an effort to fight back tears. She’s exhausted and frustrated and just, absolutely done, with all of this. This, this isn’t worth it.

She hears John take a deep breath and slowly lowers her hands again.

“This isn’t working,” she murmurs and rubs her hand over her forehead. “And I know you’re just as tired, but, we need to, talk,” she adds with a deep sigh. Reaches up to run her hair through her hair.

She feels bad, for doing this now. He’s just got back from Toronto, but right now, Joel is asleep, and Lise isn’t sure when the next time John and her will be able to really have a conversation will be. They haven’t had an actual conversation about something important in weeks, it feels like, and it’s reached the point where she just, she can’t keep doing this. Him having to go to Toronto, that just, it was the final straw. Nearly ended up being the one that completely broke her back, to be honest.

John swallows thickly and leans back in the armchair, the bottle of beer in his hands. He frowns at it before setting it down on the floor.

“What do you mean by, this,” he asks, his voice carefully neutral. There’s an expression of fear in his eyes, one that doesn’t make any sense. “When you say that, this isn’t working,” he clarifies. It makes Lise frown at him in confusion, before her face goes slack in horror.

“Non!” she exclaims and shakes her head vehemently. “Non, John, I didn’t,” she stammers and gets up quickly from the couch. Walks over to the armchair he collapsed into and leans down to kiss him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” she breathes against his lips and lets out a soft yell of surprise when he suddenly pulls her into his lap. Instead of kissing her, he just hugs her close, and hides his face against her neck, a shudder running through him. It makes her bite her lower lip and run her hands through his hair in what she hopes is a soothing caress.

“Sh,” Lise shushes him, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, everywhere she can reach, really.

“Je t’aime, mon amour,” she assures him. “And I know that, counseling, didn’t work out,” she adds and feels him tense beneath her again, so she quickly pushes ahead, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up, on us.”

She means it. She loves him, loves John so much. Way too much, to walk away from what they have, with each other. That’s not the issue. She’s not, not done, with him, or their relationship. Still cherishes that, a lot. They have their good moments, it’s just been a little, difficult, at seeing them when their everyday interactions seem to oftentimes end up in a fight.

“Then what did you mean?” John asks and leans back a little, to be able to look at her. Lise searches his face, and draws a deep breath.

This isn’t, isn’t something she takes lightly. She’s been mulling the idea over for over a while now, and the more time passes, the more it seems to her like this is the only way there is, to even begin to fix their major issues, right now. Again, it’s not that she doesn’t love John, or wants out of their relationship. It’s that their lives are so utterly chaotic, so upside-down that trying to come up with a consistent schedule is an absolute nightmare, never mind sticking to it, for their son’s sake. And yes, she is well aware of the fact that Joel has been suffering a lot, because of the current mess that any attempt at getting some semblance of order into their lives is.

“I’m transferring back to Financial,” she tells him. Feels John still, beneath her, as he stares at her, completely stunned.

“What?” he finally says and shifts and Lise moves to let him get up. He doesn’t sound, angry, which is a relief, really. He just seems absolutely confused with what’s happening.

“The two of us, in CIS, that’s not working. It hasn’t, for a while, and the more we try to make it work, the more it feels like everything's just, falling apart,” she shakes her head.

“This past month, I can count on my two hands the number of times we’ve actually slept in the same bed, John,” she starts to list. “Every single day is a, a new disaster in scheduling,” she shakes her head. “And to top it off, Joel’s started wetting the bed again,” she finishes.

That, may actually have been the last straw, for her. She’d thought it was because he’d been sick, but he’s much better now, has been for two weeks, yet there is barely a night when he does not have an accident. They were doing so well, he was doing so great, and this, it just feels like a punch in the gut. Especially because of how he reacts every single time. How devastated he is and how he screams and cries and is basically inconsolable for almost an hour, before he finally will allow either one of them to soothe him and starts calming down. She’s tried to get him to wear a diaper for the night, but that just pushes the seemingly inevitable breakdown to before bedtime instead of the middle of the night, and at this point, she’s running out of things to do and try. Is definitely running out of the energy to battle this, and it frustrates her and makes her so goddamn angry. Joel is her son, he’s just a little child. She should be there for him, should be helping him through this, and instead, her job sucks up so much of her attention and time and energy that she can’t do her job as a mother and be there for her kid and help him grow. How pathetic is that?

John paces the length of their living room and Lise watches the tension in his shoulders. Watches, as he runs his hand through his hair roughly.

“Look,” she murmurs and takes a step towards him. Reaches out and offers a hand for him to take. He pauses, briefly looking at it, before John visibly deflates and takes her hand. Allows her to entwine their fingers and step closer. She needs this, right now. Needs to be close to him, physically, because this is a lot and her emotions are all over the place. John’s presence, it helps calm her.

“Financial has more regular hours,” Lise reminds him. “It will provide more stability. Joel needs that, right now. He needs predictability, needs us to be able to follow through on what we tell him and promise,” she says.

It's not like this was an easy choice, for her. She loves CIS, loves her work there. Compared to that, Financial is an absolute snoozefest. But it is a stable, predictable snoozefest. With pretty much regular hours and shifts, with barely any out-of-town or overnight trips. It's not nearly as dangerous as CIS is, as well. And even though she very much likes the satisfaction that comes with locking up a killer, she was able to do without it before, and she will be able to do without it again. She was happy, in Financial, and she can be happy there again. Probably. And even if that weren’t the case, this isn’t just about her own happiness, any more. She has a family, she has John and Joel to consider, too, and she really thinks that Financial will help their family, in the long run.

“I won’t have to be away as much, no more short-notice trips,” she voices out loud, for John.

“You really want to go back, to that?” John asks her and Lise finds herself letting out a deep sigh.

Want to? No. If she could, she’d happily stay at CIS. But it’s just not an option, right now. John and her, they can’t both be working this massive caseload and be called out of bed at all sorts of hours, never mind having to actually leave town on such short notice. It was fine when it was just the two of them, and it worked while she was at home with Joel. But the past two years, it’s become increasingly obvious that this plan of theirs, it’s just not feasible, so something has to give. And Lise rather have that something be her job and career, than her relationship with John.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him and reaches up to touch his cheek, before standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his beard. Is glad that he ignored her the other day, when she hinted that perhaps a shave would be in order. This, him with a beard, it reminds her of how he looked, when they first met and she got to know the human puzzle that is John Cardinal. Reminds her of how far they’ve come, since she stepped into his life to investigate him for corruption.

“Lise,” he murmurs and surprises her by letting go of her hand, just to settle his on her hips and pulls her flush against him. “I’m serious. Do you really want to go back to Financial?”

“No,” she admits, gazing into his eyes. “But it’s the only option, right now-”

“It’s not,” John shakes his head. Searches her eyes and Lise watches him swallow. “The night Catherine died, I, called her. She wasn’t picking up, so I left her a message.”

She dimly remembers that. Remembers reading about it in the file, remembers reading the transcript and being confused by it. Just as she is confused by him bringing this up now. What on earth does Catherine have to do, with this? With Lise’s decision to take a step back and transfer to a less prestigious department?

“I told her I was done,” he says. “I meant it. I was done with CIS, with being a cop, everything. I was ready to take my retirement.”

“John,” she breathes, her heart picking up its pace at his words.

“I’m done,” he shrugs. “I’m done,” he repeats calmly. “You’re not going back to Financial. I won’t let you waste your talent there.”

“You don’t have to do this, John,” Lise shakes her head. “It’s alright.”

It is. She’s kind of made her peace with going back to her previous department already. It’ll be somewhat of a challenge, she’s been at CID for years now, after all. But she was good, in Financial. She was really good, at catching the bad guys. Numbers and equations, they work, for her. She likes them, likes their rules and structure. Numbers don’t lie, after all.

“Yes, it is,” he nods. “You’re good, Lise. Too good for that. CIS needs you.”

“It needs you, too,” she argues as her eyes fill with moisture. “Between the two of us-”

“I’m a fossil,” he quips, managing to elicit a teary laugh from her. “I’ve, been thinking about it, for a while, actually,” he adds.

Now it’s her turn, to stare at him dumbfounded.

“What?” she whispers. John gives a sheepish shrug and squeezes her hips slightly.

“I think it would be good, for Joel. I was thinking, I could do some woodworking. Handmade stuff, fixing things, I’m, good at that. I can work from the basement. We wouldn’t have to scramble every time you get called out or have to leave town.”

“You’re serious about this,” she realizes. He actually has thought about this. Has apparently been thinking about this for a while. And he didn’t so much as mention it to her once.

Then again, she didn't tell him about her considering a transfer to Financial, either. So she can't very well yell at him about something she did, herself. It just, it, surprises her, and not really in a pleasant way, if she’s being honest. She'd have thought that he'd at least mention a life change like that in passing, to her. But no, John had kept all of that to himself, and is now steamrolling her with it. But honestly, if she’s getting upset about that, she’s kind of, the pot that’s calling the kettle black. John would have every right, to be upset with her, too. She did make that decision without him, as well, so really, who is she to judge here?

Lise searches his face, trying to catch up with what’s happening.

“Yes,” he confirms. Shifts as he strokes the back of his hand over her cheek. “I know something has to change. And this, makes the most sense, to me.”

It makes her draw a shuddering breath. She closes her eyes, to take a, mental breath. Soaks up John’s proximity and tries to wrap her mind around what he’s suggesting. It’s a complete 180, from her idea, and she has to take a second to let it begin to sink in, to consider the possibility of what he’s suggesting.

“You, want to be a, stay-at-home dad?” she presses. And sees him give her a sheepish grin, but John nods.

“Kind of, yeah,” he confirms. Lise finds herself staring at him, dumbfounded.

She knew that he’s a great catch. That he’s an amazing father, and a great partner. But she wouldn’t have imagined he’d do, this.

“Look,” John murmurs and leans down to touch his forehead against hers. “You, had your time, with Joey,” he tells her, using the nickname for their son. “And I kind of felt like I was, missing out. But now, I can have it, too. I’m not saying I want to pull him out of daycare, or homeschool him later,” he quickly says when he sees her frown. “I want him to have that, want the social aspect of that. But I’d like to be there more. More than I have been,” he shrugs.

Lise shakes her head slightly, her lips tugging into a soft smile.

“I love you,” she tells him and brushes her lips over his in a soft kiss. Cradles his face and strokes her thumbs over his cheeks as she looks into his eyes.

“If you really want to do this,” she starts and feels a shiver run through her. “If you honestly feel like you are done, with CIS, that you want to retire, then, do it. Take your retirement, you’ve more than earned it,” she says. “But please don’t feel like you have to do this, for me, for Joel, for us.”

“I know,” John nods. Kisses her softly, letting the touch linger, for a moment. “This isn’t what I feel like I have to do, in the sense that you or anyone else is making me. I have to do this, for me. I’m tired, Lise. I’m just, so tired,” he shakes his head,

“Okay,” she whispers. Pauses, before she wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Feels John’s arms circle her and hug her against him., warmth spreading through her.

This, will take time, to get used to. The idea of John no longer being part, of CIS. Of her no longer seeing him, at work. Of him staying at home, working on wood projects.

But if she’s completely honest, she feels just a little relieved. And kind of excited, as well.

* * *

“Maman.”

Something is poking her face. Lise frowns in her sleep and reaches up to swat at the offending person.

“Maman!”

“What!” she exclaims, sitting up sharply. At the foot of the bed, Moose startles awake, letting out an angry chirp, before she takes a few steps and then settles down again.

“I make cookies,” Joel says and grins at her, thrusting a plate with said cookies at her.

Lise blinks at him, standing there at the side of their bed, for a moment, and has to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at him. He’s not responsible for her lack of sleep, last night. He’s just excited, he made something and wanted to show her and have her be proud of him.

“C’est genial, mon ange,” she says instead as she flops back down and hides her face in the pillow for a moment. Draws a deep breath, sleep already tugging her under again.

“Maman, tu vas pas manger un cookie?” Joel asks and Lise opens her eyes to see his lower lip trembling precariously, his eyes big and filling with moisture.

So much for catching up on sleep, she thinks and tries to bite back a deep sigh.

“Plus tard, d’accord?” she murmurs and reaches out to stroke his cheek. Hopes that it will reassure him enough to allow her to go back to sleep. She was up all night, she’s exhausted.

John sticks his head into the bedroom then, letting a deep sigh escape him at the sight of their son standing in front of the bed and Lise awake.

“Joey, what are you doing?” he asks as he steps inside.

“Showing Maman cookies,” their son declares. At the sight of John’s face, his little eyes widen almost comically, and Lise has to bite back a laugh at his expression, her son's face the embodiment of 'Busted!'.

“And what did I say, about that?” he asks as he kneels down in front of the bed.

Joel gives a slightly shrug, the plate in his hands tipping, nearly sending the cookies onto the floor. John quickly tilts it back, preventing him from spilling the food.

“Do you remember, how I said that Maman is very tired and we were going to let her sleep in? That you could show her the cookies at dinner?”

“Oopsie?” Joel tries, and this time, Lise can’t hold back, she lets out a bark of laughter and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“T’es drole,” she shakes her head at him before she carefully runs her hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” John apologizes to her. “I had to use the bathroom, and someone,” he explains, raising an eyebrow at Joel meaningfully, “apparently used that opportunity to sneak in here.”

“C’est okay,” Lise tells him. Gropes for her watch, on the nightstand, to check the time. It’s almost eleven already, she should be getting up. Admittedly, she only got home after four, but still. If she stays in bed for much longer, she'll end up screwing up her biorhythm, which would get ugly pretty fast.

“Come on,” John murmurs and stands, touching their son’s shoulder. “Let’s put those cookies into a container, and finish drawing while Maman gets up.”

“Mais-”

“Non,” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna let Maman take as much time as she needs, by herself. It’s her weekend, too. And if you no longer want to draw, we still have to clean it up, so get moving, kiddo,” he tells him, steering Joel from the room and closing the door behind them.

Lise considers just going back to sleep briefly, but the smell of those cookies has reminded her how long it’s been, since she ate. And even if she weren’t as hungry, she doubts that she’d be able to go back to sleep. Joel really woke her up. She sits up again and rubs a hand over her face. Finds Moose blinking open one eye to glare at her. She shakes her head and reaches out to pet the cat briefly, before getting out of bed to head for the bathroom and get herself woken up with a nice shower.

Once she’s had a shower and gotten dressed, Lise finds John and Joel in the kitchen, making dinner.

“Hm, that smells nice,” she murmurs as she wraps her arms around him from behind and kisses the base of John’s neck. He leans back into the touch and she feels him cover her hands with his, for a moment, before she steps away.

“Chicken, peas, rice,” he tells her. “We may have to do some convincing, there,” he adds with a tilt of his head.

Joel doesn’t really like rice all that much. But then again, he’s a little kid. Given the choice, he’d be happy eating candy all day. And honestly, Lise is growing tired of potato mash and pasta.

“Maybe,” she allows and picks up the boy, blowing a raspberry on his cheek and making him giggle as Joel hugs her.

It’s amazing, how much things have improved already. John hasn’t even been off work for two months, and yet Lise could have sworn she saw small improvements after less than two weeks.

Of course it was, awkward, at first. Especially explaining it to Joel, that has been, kind of complicated. And it did take a while, for it to really sink in, with the boy. That they weren’t joking, that this was actually happening.

Before he quit, Lise and John never knew who was going to pick Joel up from daycare. They tried to alternate, but ultimately, it had been a decision made based on their daily schedule and which one of them had time and energy. Now, it’s almost always John, who picks him up, while Lise tries to drop him off almost every day. That’s been easier for her, to arrange. The only exceptions are when she’s out already at a scene, or out of town.

Joel seems, calmer, to her. More secure, definitely. John hasn’t been away from home in two months, and it shows. That Joel knows his Papa will be there, even if Maman may not be, that’s been a tremendous help with his latent worries of one or both of them leaving him, for good.

He’s been talking more, as well, and what Lise is most excited about: there haven’t been nearly as much tantrums and arguments. He still pushes the rules, of course he does, he is a child. But he doesn’t start screaming when they tell him no, and his insistence on his rituals has not been nearly as strong as it used to be. He still gets upset when things get too off-course, but he will let himself be calmed and comforted now. It’s no longer the hour-long crying fit that just won’t be calmed.

Though she has noticed it takes him longer now, to switch completely to French. He used to do it more often, when they were together. Would switch after a couple of sentences. Now he will reply in English for longer, and Lise isn’t sure if she’s allowed to be just a tiny bit upset about it. She loves speaking French, with her son, and she doesn’t want him to lose the ability to do so.

Which is funny, because now John is sprinkling some French words into his conversations with Joel. Just a few simple ones he knows. His French is a lot better than it used to be. His accent is still pretty bad, but he understands a lot more, and Lise is pretty sure that’s in part because Joel used to switch back and forth without discrimination when he first learned to talk.

“Je suis thirsty,” Joel murmurs and Lise kisses his forehead.

“T’as soif?” she repeats, and watches as he nods. “Alors, tu prend un verre,” she tells him, keeping him in her arms so he can easily reach the cabinet and get a glass. “Et un verre pour papa, et un verre pour moi, aussi, s’il te plait,” she adds, accepting them in her free hand and setting them on the counter before she lets Joel down. The boy walks over to the fridge and pulls it open, pausing.

“Jus de pomme, jus d’orange, ou l’eau, qu’est-ce que tu veux, mon ange?” she asks him and Joel points to the apple juice, not quite able to reach. She gets it out for him and closes the fridge. Lets him take it to the table and pour his own drink as she carries over the two glasses for John and her, plus a pitcher of water.

“C’est bon?” she asks when Joel downs a glass and lets out a happy gasp. He nods and fills up his glass again, going much slower this time and only drinking half of it. She leans over to kiss his cheek, before Lise leaves him again to get out plates and cutlery for dinner.

* * *

She still can’t quite believe it. He’s four. Her son is four years old.

Lise swallows and reaches out to pull Joel into her lap, for a moment. Presses a noisy kiss to his cheek, the boy giggling and pulling up his shoulder to ward her off.

“Je t’aime, mon petit,” she murmurs and brushes his hair back from his face. He needs another haircut already, she thinks. And something to make him grow this fast, as well. She could swear that she only gave birth to him like, a week ago. How did it turn out that he’s already this big? Four years, she thinks with a slight shake of her head. It’s crazy, how quickly the time has gone, how fast it flew by.

Lise shakes her head in an attempt to chase those thoughts away. Even if she had the chance, she wouldn’t really want to stop Joel from growing up. Sure it can be a challenge, sometimes, but it also a great adventure. She absolutely adores watching him grow, loves seeing him learn and become his own independent person. Does she miss it, when he was a little baby and all he wanted was being held and cuddled? Sure. But if he had stayed a baby, she never would have found out, what his voice sounds like. Never would have heard him call her Maman, never would have heard him say he loves her. It’s, exciting, to see him engage with the world and grow from it. And it is teaching her one or two things about how to do that, as well.

“Maman,” Joel mutters and squirms in her lap. She kisses his cheek before letting him go, and the boy slips down, going straight back to his sister. Kelly lets out a laugh before picking him up, bouncing the little guy in her lap as he talks to her.

“Here,” John murmurs and holds out a glass of cider to her before he sits down next to her on the couch. Lise blinks at it briefly, before accepting.

“Have you-”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, indicating his own glass filled with orange juice before he clinks it against hers. “You can drink,” he adds and Lise leans over briefly, to kiss his cheek.

“Merci,” she murmurs and clinks her glass against his again, before taking a sip. “Hm, this is nice,” she adds in pleasant surprise.

“Thanks,” John smiles at her, pulling her into a one armed hug. “You know, I keep going back to what was happening four years ago,” he muses, causing Lise to pull a face at the memory.

Being in labor for so long, it certainly had not been fun. By the time Joel actually had been born, she’d been so exhausted and just over the whole ordeal. If someone had offered her a c-section, she’d probably have jumped at the chance, if she’s being honest. At around the halfway mark, she’d just been so absolutely done, with everything. She’d just wanted him out, had wanted the pain to finally stop and be able to hold the baby at last.

Perhaps it is Joel’s birthday, perhaps it is him growing up and his face losing some of the lingering babyish features. Maybe it’s the ticking of her biological clock that’s growing louder each day, or perhaps it is their newfound stability, with John having retired from being a cop. It doesn’t really matter what the reason is, really. It just, Lise keeps catching herself thinking that she kind of wants to do this again. That she wants to have another baby.

Not as any compensation for the termination she had years ago. Definitely not. She doesn’t regret doing that. Only regrets that it had been a decision she’d had been forced to make in the first place. But even just looking back to a few months ago, she doesn’t believe that it was the wrong decision. Things that she and John, they made the right choice back then. Looking after Joel alone had been challenge enough, she honestly doesn’t think John and her would have survived two children under the age of five.

But now, she thinks she might be reaching the point where this is something she needs to talk to John about. About the possibility of perhaps having another child. Having a second baby. He hasn’t mentioned wanting that, not at all, not that she can remember. Hasn’t commented on it when she was kind of, dropping hints, the past week or so. Maybe he didn’t catch them, or perhaps he did and decided not to take the bait, uncertain of what her own feelings on the issue are.

She lets out a soft sigh. They definitely need to work on their communication. Perhaps giving couples counseling another chance wouldn’t be so bad. It did kind of help, the first time, they just didn’t have the time or energy to keep up with it. But their schedules are more predictable now, it would be easier to set it up, she thinks. And they’ve already made the first step, admitting that they needed help. So it wouldn’t be that bad, going back to it, right?

Lise shakes her head and takes another sip of her cider, deciding to postpone those thoughts and musings. It’s Joel’s birthday, and she wants to enjoy that, right now. Focus on her son. He so very much deserves that.

* * *

Lise shakes her head as she watches Joel basically faceplant into the children's trampoline at the mall. He seems to be fine, though, since he just gets up again and keeps bouncing around on it, no tears or screeching coming from the boy.

“Ils sont fou,” Ruya shakes her head as Fatin lands on his butt, giggling.

“Your brother is as bad as my son,” Lise tells Hadida, smiling at the girl when she looks at her with big eyes. “T'es bien?” she asks her and the toddler frowns, pointing at one of the spring riders.

“You wanna try that?” she asks her and lets the girl steer her in that direction.

“Careful,” Ruya warns her when she picks up the girl and sits her down on it. “Elle a peur si ça va trop vite,” she explains and Lise nods.

“Merci,” she smiles at her friend and gently moves the rider, watching the little girl's reaction closely.

“Ça te plait?” she asks her as the girl lets out a soft giggle, letting go of the handles. “Woah,” Lise breathes and quickly steadies her, before she falls off.

“You have to hold on, darling,” she laughs at the girl's surprised look.

Hadida lets out an unhappy sound and reaches for her, wrapping her little arms around Lise's arm. She gives her a few moments before trying to pull it back, but when the girl keeps hanging on, Lise picks her up, kissing her chubby cheeks. She’s very cute, with her dark eyes and long lashes.

“Enough of that?” she asks as she balances her on her hip. Looks over to see Ruya frowning at one of the other women.

“Something wrong?” she inquires, keeping her voice low.

“I'm not sure,” the brown woman shakes her head, touching her daughter's head distractedly. “I think Fatin may have accidentally pushed her child- Oh dear,” she breathes as the white woman gets up and starts walking in their direction, dragging her own daughter behind her. Lise ducks her head and takes a step aside, bouncing Hadida in her arms but keeping an ear on the conversation.

If she had a dollar for every time some white parent called Fatin or Hadida 'loud', 'unruly', 'uncivilized' or something along those lines... And those are only the moments Lise has witnessed herself. She's sure that Ruya has had at least triple that, and a lot worse, too.

“Hey,” she says when she thinks that Blondie is getting a little out of hand. “You need to calm down,” Lise tells her as she hands Hadida to her mother and gets between the two.

“Who are you? Her friend?,” the blond woman snarls, looking Lise up and down.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lise nods and crosses her arms. “She's told you, she is sorry. It was an accident, Fatin did not mean to hurt your child. Who looks fine to me, by the way,” she adds, smiling down at the little girl in pigtails. Who offers her an uncertain smile, deep blue eyes flickering back to her mother.

“Would you let your child play with that-”

“As a matter of fact,” Lise cuts off whatever insult the woman is about to let out, “I already am,” she tells her, pointing to Joel and Fatin. Who are trying to put their shoes back on. Fatin is crouching in front of Joel, trying to help him into his shoe as Joel holds onto him. He sways precariously as Fatin pulls on his foot and then topples over to land on his back. Lise tenses in concern, but then she hears the giggling carry over and relaxes again. Before she looks back at the other woman and sees the snarl on her face.

Oh boy.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she hisses at Lise, who raises her eyebrows. Contemplates, for a moment, simply telling her to piss off. Considers pulling the ‘I’m a cop and you need to leave’ card, but then reigns herself in.

“Probably, but not for the reasons you assume,” Lise responds instead. Turns back to Ruya and smiles at her friend, ignoring the fuming woman at her back.

“Allons, on prends les garçons et prends un snack,” she tells her and picks up their things, ignoring the other woman. Ruya watches her for a moment, her dark eyes wide, before she nods and puts Hadida in her stroller and calls for Fatin.

It works, Lise is relieved to find. By the time Joel and Fatin have made their way to them, the woman and her daughter are gone. Lise shakes her head at the encounter and hugs Ruya, murmuring an apology to her.

“I'm sorry you had to deal with that,” she sighs as she helps Joel back into his sweater, having taken it off before the boys went onto the trampoline. She hadn’t wanted him to get all sweaty and then end up catching a cold.

“It wasn't that bad,” Ruya shakes her head, zipping up her son's boots. “She was actually one of the, nicer ones, if you can believe it.”

The sad thing is, Lise can. Even if the woman was incredibly rude and out of line, she doesn't doubt for a second that Ruya had to deal with a lot worse, too.

* * *

He’s insistent, Lise will give him that. Not that she’s not appreciating it. She is, right now. Appreciates it and welcomes it very, very much.

“John,” she murmurs against his lips, her hips moving up involuntarily as her partner presses her back against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?” he mumbles, palming her breasts through her blouse before he reaches down to pull it free of her pants.

She’s tempted to tell him to screw it and just use his hand. She’s so incredibly horny right now, she knows it won’t take much. Her entire body is itching with want, with need. Which is entirely his fault. All John’s fault, all on him and him alone, yes. He’d been sneaking touches before she’d gotten called out, riling her up, and then it had left her, high and not-so-dry, so to speak. Had made her incredibly jumpy, at the scene, and rather uncomfortable and frustrated, as well. Poor McLeod, she’s pretty sure the guy has no idea why she was so short-tempered.

“Careful,” she warns him as John begins undoing the buttons on her blouse, tugging on the material when it takes him longer with the small buttons. “I happen to like this one,” she adds when he leans back with an arched eyebrow.

“Really?” he asks, mischief sparkling in his eyes and Lise rolls her own. Reaches between them and quickly undoes two more buttons, before she simply pulls the thing over her head.

“Much better,” John declares with a sigh, eyes taking in her chest, and she actually feels herself blush. Feels different heat spread over her face and the top of her chest as she shakes her head and goes to pull him into another kiss. Allows her hands to travel down and cup is ass in his slacks. It makes his hips jerk against her, tearing a groan from Lise.

“John,” she murmurs as he undoes the buckle of her belt and then undoes button and zipper, as well. He leans back, meeting her eyes, before giving a simple tug and the combined weight of her belt and buckle and badge make her pants drop to the floor. Lise swallows, taking a step to the side to step out of them, a squeak of surprise leaving her when John suddenly lifts her up and sets her down on the counter. Looking down, she finds her hands tugging on the cords that keeps his slacks up, insistent on getting him out of his clothes, as well.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her hungrily as his hands gently stroke up and down the outside of her thighs. She opens her legs for him, allowing him to step inside them and get closer. Wraps her legs around him, ankles crossing behind him.

It occurs to her that perhaps, they are a bit old, to have sex in the kitchen. But then again, their counselor did remind them to go with what felt natural, to allow for spontaneous expressions of affection and desire. And this does feel very spontaneous, and she really, really wants John, right now.

“We doing this?” she asks, brushing her lips over John’s in a softer kiss, just to make sure. He hums against her lips, for a moment, before pulling back to meet her eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods, searching her eyes. “Unless you don’t want to?” he pauses and Lise quickly shakes her head, reaching for the hem of his shirt to help him out of it.

“I do,” she answers with a soft smile, reaching up to run her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Leans in to capture his lips in another kiss, and another.

“I love you,” she tells him between kisses, her hands trailing over the skin of his chest, a sigh of contentment escaping her.

John kisses back before shifting, ducking his head to trail kisses along her neck. She reaches down to finally get rid of his pants. Bites back a grin at the moan he lets out and runs her hands over his naked back, adding some pressure to let him feel her nails.

Yes. She missed this. Missed him, missed having him against her, missed having John pressed this close, to the point where she can no longer tell, where her own body ends and his begins.

“Maman?”

She lets out a surprised squeak and John curses as he hits his knee on the kitchen counter when he jumps in surprise. She scrambles for her blouse to cover herself at least a little, and finds Joel in the doorway, rubbing sleepily at his face and looking absolutely miserable.

“Joel,” she murmurs and pulls the blouse back on, before hopping off the counter. “What are you doing, huh?” she asks him as she bends down to pick him up, rubbing a hand over his back. Her son lets out a shuddering sigh and rests his forehead against her shoulder, relaxing against her.

“Hurts,” he whines softly, his little arms wrapped around her neck. Lise casts a glance at John, who’s managed to yank his pants back up and is now struggling to get his shirt back on. The wrong way around, she notes, the seams exposed and the tag sticking out in the back. Lise bites back a snicker at the sight.

“Your tummy?” she asks their child, who nods against her, hiccoughing softly. “Ah mon ange,” she murmurs, kissing his temple. “Tu veux une bouteille d’eau chaude?” she offers, rocking herself a little to comfort the boy. She doesn’t like using hot-water bottles, for him, but the cherry pit pillow that they used broke a few days ago, and she doesn’t think John has picked up a new one yet. She knows she certainly hasn’t. It’s on the list, but apparently, she should have put it up much higher than it was.

“Tummy rubs,” Joel whimpers and Lise rolls her eyes. Not because he wants them, but because he thinks he might not get them. Of course he will. And he’ll probably end up sleeping in their bed, as well. He’s not allowed to, unless he is sick, and right now, he seems to be absolutely miserable.

John is already putting the kettle on, before he bends and picks up her pants from the floor.

“Trade-off,” he tells her, holding out his hands for their son. “I’ll take him, you get changed into your PJs.”

She almost reminds him she doesn’t have any. At least none she actually wears to bed. Instead, she bites her tongue, thinking she should probably thank her lucky stars that their son is too miserable to wonder what the two of them were doing, John and her, in the kitchen. That he doesn’t ask why she was up on the counter, clad only in her underwear.

Lise lets out a soft groan at the thought that this could very well be an anecdote he’ll share at daycare. Wonderful. Let’s see how long it will be, until Sarah finds it hard to meet her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmurs as she gently hands Joel over to his father, the boy fussing.

“Maman’s not leaving again, she’s just going to put on something comfy, alright?” John tells him, rocking the boy. “You and I are gonna make your bottle, and then we’ll go join Maman in bed, yes? That sound good?”

She doesn’t hear Joel’s reply, already on her way to their bedroom. Once there, she changes into an old shirt of John’s and some yoga pants before stepping into the bathroom to quickly wash her face and brush her teeth. She’s just done when she hears them pass in the hallway, John telling Joel to get comfy while he grabs his Monkey.

“Hey,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low as she ducks into their son’s room after him. “Sorry, about that.”

John gives a shrug, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Not your fault,” he sighs, touching his forehead to hers, for a moment.

“Still,” Lise sighs, stroking his cheeks. “You want some, alone time? Cold shower, or something like that?” she offers with a tilt of her head. “I’ll be fine with him.”

“Cold shower might be good,” John nods, his jaw tightening briefly. Lise bites back a laugh at the expression on his face, but leans up to kiss him instead.

“Go knock yourself out, then,” she tells him and takes the hot-water bottle and Joel’s plushie from him. In the bedroom, Joel has crawled into the middle of the bed, face half pressed into a pillow. He gives her a miserable look and Lise feels her heart ache for her son. She joins him, giving him his monkey to hold onto, before she grabs another shirt from the drawer, having forgotten to bring a towel. She wraps the warm bottle up in it, tugging it under her own shirt to test the temperature, before she gets into bed.

“Cuddle?” she offers and Joel nods, scooting close.

“Tummy rubs,” he requests with a soft whine and Lise kisses his forehead. She rests her hand on his belly for a moment before slowly moving it in circles. Sees Joel flinch a few times, when she presses too hard, but then he begins to relax, eyes closing again as she hums a melody under her breath. Some Disney tune, it’s been stuck in her head on and off since they watched the Lion King a few days ago.

“Maman didn’t say bonne nuit,” Joel mutters, cracking his eye open to glare accusingly at her.

“Je sais,” Lise nods, running her fingers through his hair. “Mais je viens de revenir, Joey. Je serais venu t’embrasser dans un instant, je te promets, mon ange. Tu étais simplement trop rapide, de venir à maman,” she tells him, hoping he’ll buy the white lie. She hadn’t been home for long before he’d found her and John, that’s true. And she probably would have checked on him, too, just much, much later. After her and John, were done, with their adult alone time.

The little boy lets out a deep sigh, snuggling closer to hide his face against her chest. Lise wraps her arm around him, holding him close.

“Je t’aime, mon ange,” she murmurs as she feels him relax back into sleep, making a mental note to warn the daycare about this when she drops him off tomorrow.

* * *

“You're, not drinking.”

Lise feels her eyes bulge and closes them. Forces herself to take a deep breath before she turns from the sink to look at her mother.

“No, I'm not,” she confirms. Watches, as the older woman tilts her head, searching her face. Lise shakes her own head.

“I'm driving, Maman,” she reminds her. “I don't drink when I have Joel in the car with me.”

It's not a lie. Whenever she knows she will be the one driving with their son in the car, Lise doesn't touch alcohol. Never has. There have been a few moments, when she had a glass of wine and then John got called to a scene and she was left driving her son and herself back home. And every single time, she'd been nervous and uncomfortable with it. Her own life and being responsible for it, that's one thing, but Joel depends on her. He can't make his own decisions about things like this yet, and it's her job to protect him.

Though it's not the only reason why she's not drinking. She's also at her parents house, and while she tries very hard not to be too, antsy, her nerves are still acting up. She still gets nervous, when they are around Joel, and she doesn't want to lower her inhibitions around them, lest she give them some choice words about what happened when Joel had been a baby.

But it honestly doesn’t have anything to do with her possibly being pregnant. John and her have talked about it. About trying for another baby. And they both decided that it wasn’t something they wanted to go for, not yet at least. Have decided to enjoy things as they are, right now. Them being together, as a family, as they have finally found their footing again with each other.

It’s not that they said that it wasn’t an option, in the future. This, it’s more of a, postponing kind of thing. Which, funnily enough, had actually been Lise’s idea. Even though she kept having those moments where she thought that she wanted another child, she wanted to just enjoy things as they were,right now between them, more. Figured that, perhaps waiting until Joel starts school would be a good idea, as well.

“And there is no other reason?” her mother pushes, causing her to shake her head.

“Non,” Lise answers, looking away.

In an ideal world, she would be talking about this with her mother. Would be confiding in her, about the plans John and her made. But this isn’t an ideal world, and even when they were trying to have Joel, Lise never talked to her mother about it.

Plus, her parents, they aren’t fans, of her being with John. So going to her mother with her feelings about her relationship with him, about their struggles getting pregnant the first time, it had never felt like a good idea. Lise did mention the miscarriage to her, but never really managed to convey just how heartbroken she had been over it, how much it had hurt her. And she certainly didn’t tell her parents about the termination she had when Joel hadn’t even been a year old. They wouldn’t have understood. Wouldn’t have understood the reasoning behind her choice, and honestly, Lise hadn’t wanted, hadn’t been able to deal with the judgment. It had been a heartbreaking experience to begin with, she certainly hadn’t needed anyone else to make her feel even worse about the whole ordeal.

“Maman!” Joel bursts into the kitchen, reaching for her. Lise bends down and picks him up without a second thought, holding him tightly against herself.

“Sh, c'est okay,” she murmurs, rubbing his back. “Qu'est-ce que ne va pas, hein? Qu'est-ce qui t'a fait peur, mon ange?” she asks him as Joel shudders against her.

“Je suis désolé. C'était de ma faute. Je ne savais pas qu'il avait peur des araignées,” her father apologizes as he joins them.

It makes Lise frown at him. Makes him wonder where he even got the idea of spiders from, before realization dawns on her. Halloween. Fake cobwebs.

“Fausses toiles d'araignées? Papa,” she sighs with a shake of her head. She hoists Joel up on her hip again, the boy have started to slip due to his weight.

“Ecoutes-moi, Joel. Ils ne sont pas réels, tu sais?” she tries to explain. “C'est un jouet, pour effrayer les gens. Ils ne sont pas dangereux, je te promets, mon ange,” she tells him, rubbing his back.

He doesn't hate spiders, or is afraid of them. But he really, really doesn't like squishy, cold stuff. Things like silly string. They had that at Kelly's birthday party when he was almost three, and he'd gotten some of it down his shirt. He'd started screaming and crying in response. It had made Lise worry, that there was something wrong. That he had sensory processing issues, that her son has Autism Spectrum Disorder. He does react to some textures with seemingly extreme discomfort, always has, since he was a baby. And he is very, sensitive, at times. His insistence on rituals and order and things like that, they haven't gone unnoticed, by her or John. But Joel's pediatrician says that it's still within 'normal' limits. To be honest, the man had been more inclined towards a version of anxiety than sensory processing disorder, just from what John and her told him and what he'd observed in Joel himself.

“Est-il toujours un tel bébé?” her father jokes and Lise feels her hackles rise immediately.

“Charles,” her mother warns as she shakes her head.

“Es-toi toujours un tel connard?” she throws back at him and watches as her father's eyes widen.

“Ecoutes-moi, ma chere fille-” he starts and gets cut off by her mother touching his arm, quickly shaking her head.

“Non,” Lise shakes her head and shifts Joel's weight on her hip. Heads back to the den, to grab Joel's monkey and her purse.

“Sh, t'es bien,” she murmurs to him as she bends down and hands him his stuffed animal. The boy clutches it close, rubbing his face against the fur.

“Nous partons, d'accord?” she tells him and feels Joel nod against her shoulder before he hides his face again. More out of shame than anything else, Lise thinks.

Right now, she'd love to slap her father. But she's already cursed in front of Joel, and adding 'hitting someone' to the list of bad behaviors she's showing him doesn't sound like a good idea.

“Lise, please,” her mother pleads as she moves past her parents again, to grab her coat and Joel's jacket. “He's sorry, he didn't mean-”

“Alors il n'aurait pas dû le faire, hein?” she snaps and pulls open the door, leaving her parents' house again without looking back.

Instead of putting Joel into his car seat, she gets into the back of her car and holds him in her lap, for a moment, just shushing him and kissing his temple as she rocks them.

“Je t'aime, tu sais?” she murmurs against his soft skin. “Grand-père était méchant, n'est-ce pas?”

“T'as dit 'connard',” Joel frowns at her and Lise lets out a soft sigh.

“Oui, j'ai dit ça,” she nods. “J'etait pas gentile, je sais,” she admits, watching Joel. “Mais... tu sais comment certaines personnes, ils sont très douces et sensibles?” she asks, searching his face.

“There's nothing wrong, with being gentle and nice and not liking being scared,” she switches to English, for his benefit. “I love you, just the way you are. I very much love how gentle you are, Joel, and I wouldn't change it for the world.”

“I'm not a baby,” her son frowns and Lise nods in agreement.

“Non, t'es pas un bebe,” she confirms. “T'es un gentil garcon, et Papa et moi, nous t'aimons tellement.”

“Grandpa n'etait pas gentil,” Joel declares and Lise bites back a laugh as she feels tears well up in her eyes.

“Non, c'est vrai,” she murmurs and hugs the boy tightly as she clenches her eyes shut to keep herself from crying. She hates this. Hates it so much. Joel is such a wonderful child, and her father, he’s his grandfather. He’s supposed to love him unconditionally. Is supposed to help him grow and support him to become a good person. Instead, he’d upset him, and then hurt his feelings after by calling him a baby when Joel had needed to be comforted. He deserves better than that, Lise thinks. Everyone, every child deserves so much better than what her father just did.

* * *

John has his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Is peering over her shoulder as Lise leans against the bathroom counter. She draws a deep breath and picks up the home pregnancy test. Counts to three, in her head, before turning it around so they can see the result.

She feels her stomach drop, the lump in her throat dissolving. Shifts on her feet and feels John lean down a little further.

“Is that...” he starts and Lise bites back a laugh.

“Non,” she shakes her head. Tosses the test onto the counter and moves from his embrace.

“Are you sure?” he insists. Picks up the test and squints at it. “I mean, it, it kind of looks like, a really, really, really faint line?”

“John,” Lise sighs and shakes her head at him. Gently takes the test from his hands and throws it in the trash. “I'm not pregnant,” she says, surprised by the sudden wave of sadness that hits her.

It’s not like they are trying. She’s actually still on the pill, even though she has asked her gynecologist about going off it in a few months. It’s just… Her period is late. Which, it kind of makes sense, given that she went down to Toronto this month. It always gets a little thrown off when she flies. But birth control can fail, and she is a cop, so she’d needed to make sure that there isn’t a different reason for her not having started menstruating yet.

“I’m sorry,” John murmurs and takes her hand. Entwines their fingers and Lise finds herself sighing as she steps closer. Hides her face in his broad chest, for a moment, allowing herself to just bask in his closeness, and soak up his strength as he cradles the back of her neck.

“I think I am, too,” she admits, closing her eyes. It, hurts, surprisingly. It’s this weird ache, in her chest, a kind of, hollow feeling that digs its claws into her heart.

John doesn’t say anything, for the moment. Just holds her close against him and sways a little in an attempt to comfort and calm her. She feels him inhale deeply, his chest expanding, before he lets out the air slowly.

“I didn’t mean to, kind of, get my hopes up, but I guess it happened,” she shakes her head, just a smidge angry with herself for feeling this way. It’s not like they said they wouldn’t try for another baby, just not yet. It’ll only be a few more months, there’s no reason to be so, torn up, about this. And honestly, she knew that, logically, her being pregnant, that had been a very slim chance. But apparently, her emotions hadn’t quite gotten that particular memo.

And it certainly hasn’t helped, what had happened at her parents’ place a few days ago. She’s still kind of reeling from that, is still upset about it. She could just strangle her father. Twice. Once for upsetting Joel in the first place, and then a second time for being an absolute ass about it.

She hates this idea that little children have to be tough and manly if they're boys. They're kids. They get scared and frightened just like anyone else. And truth be told, Lise likes that her son is empathetic and gentle with others. It doesn't bother her that he gets scared easily, it's alright, he's a child. And even if he were a teenager or adult, it shouldn't matter. There are adults that are jumpy and frighten easily, as well. Gender shouldn't play a role in how anyone is allowed to react to the things that scare them, Lise feels like.

At least John agrees with her, on that. He's wonderful, with Joel, and she couldn't ask for a better father. He's not ashamed of telling him he loves him, of hugging him and kissing him. Cuddling with him and playing with stuffed animals. And he tries to overcome the areas where he does have somewhat of a bias. Lise has seen him bite back a remark when Joel had wanted a pink lunchbox (because it had stars and mermaids on it), and he didn't even try to suggest another one. He plays with the stuffed toys and dolls without hesitation. And the other day, Lise came home to find John with her hairclips in his hair, when Joel had wanted to ‘make it pretty’, like she’d let him do the night before.

Her partner leans in to brush his lips over her forehead and Lise closes her eyes, for a moment.

“Anything you'd like to do, right now?” he asks her, giving Lise the space to try to figure out her emotions.

She'd like to leave, if she's honest. Everything in her is yelling at her to, withdraw. She wants to pace, wants to go for a run. Wants to be alone, until it’s sunken in and stopped hurting as much. Until the tremors left by the impact of this bombshell have ceased to run through her.

But at the same time, she wants to be with John. Wants to be close, even though it smarts, even though every time her heart beats, it feels as if it's being squeezed just a little too tightly. She wants his arms around her and his hands in her hair, holding her close and telling her that it’s okay, she didn’t fail him, or them. Wants to hear and feel that he still loves her.

“I don't know,” she admits. “Can we... You showed me, how to sand,” she frowns, shifting on her feet.

John's brows rise in surprise as he leans back.

“You want to do woodwork?” he asks her with a slight tilt of his head. Lise gives a helpless shrug.

“Monotonous work that doesn't require a lot of brain power sounds pretty good, right now,” she tells him. Watches, as John gives a contemplative nod before he steps back.

“Alright, I'll get the baby monitor, you go ahead,” he tells her and Lise steps past him. Leaves the downstairs bathroom and makes for the basement, Moose following her with a soft meow.

Downstairs, she finds a few pieces lined up in various stages of completion. There's a picture frame that looks like it's being clamped down as the glue dries. Some seemingly random piece of woodcarving that's not done just yet, the pencil lines still visible on the material. There's a couple of blocks in various shapes and sizes, as well. They look like another set of building blocks for one of the children.

“Here,” John murmurs as he joins her, setting the baby monitor down on the stairs. They still have it for evenings when Lise is working or out on a case and John wants to work in the basement and might not hear Joel get up. Their son usually sleeps through the night, but sometimes, he has a nightmare, and neither John, nor her, want their frightened kid to wander the house and get more scared when they can't find them.

He hands her a sander and gestures to the blocks.

“Go to town on those,” he says and Lise sits down on one of the two swivel chairs. Picks up a block and rubs her fingers over it.

“They all need general smoothing out,” he tells her as he gets himself a sander, as well, and starts to work.

They both work in silence, for a while. Lise can feel her emotions settle somewhat. She's still sad, but it's more tolerable now. Not as overwhelming. Not as much of a mess.

“I was thinking, do you think I should paint them?” John asks with a tilt of his head. Lise looks up to see him contemplate a cylindrical block.

“I don't know,” she replies, watching him. “Maybe?” she frowns. “I mean, Joel doesn't mind that they're plain, but maybe, having them be colorful would be, more fun?”

“Huh,” he murmurs. “Yeah. I was talking to Emilie, and she mentioned that some sets, they assign a color to a shape. I don't know, there's a whole concept behind it, I'd talk to her more about it. So, it wouldn't be like, random, and no, crazy colors.”

“These are for his daycare?” Lise asks, surprised. She hadn't known that John was working on something for them.

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “More like, I didn't know what to do with the leftover stuff and building blocks have kind of become my, go-to,” he shrugs with a sheepish grin, smoothing out a ragged edge of a block.

Lise watches him, for a moment, before she puts down her sander and gets up. Walks over and wraps her arms around him from behind, leaning against him.

“Ask Emilie, what she thinks, then,” she offers. “She knows what the kids would play with, what would be most beneficial, for them.”

“Yeah, you're right,” John nods. Pauses, before he reaches up to cover her linked hands with his. “Feel better?” he asks her, his voice gentle.

“A little, yes,” Lise confirms and leans in to kiss his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, love,” he replies and silently goes back to his work, leaving Lise to rest against him as she soaks up his proximity.

* * *

Lise frowns at Joel for a moment, allowing a sigh to escape her.

“Tu reste ici, tu me comprends?” she asks and digs out her ringing cell phone, biting back a curse as she sees Dyson's name flashing across the screen. She casts another look at her son and answers, ducking her head as she tries to hear her DS over the din at the coffee shop.

Joel had been upset, about missing afternoon snack time. The one day where Lise gets off early and decides to pick him up early, they promised the kids cocoa and gingerbread people. So she'd offered him cocoa, as well, and a cake pop, to make up for him missing out. When she’d texted John as Joel was getting dressed, to complain, he’d replied with a ‘Now you know how I felt’, referring to last week when Joel was angry with him for picking him up, because he’d wanted to keep playing in the snow with the other kids.

“Non, McLeod said he was going to write the report,” Lise sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Makes a mental note to remind the older man why it's a bad idea to piss her off. “It should be in his folder. Unless he put it in mine, but I doubt that,” Lise shakes her head and gets out her notepad, to write down the case number. She'll have a look through her email at home, see if McLeod send her a copy to look over and was just waiting for her go-ahead before filing it.

“I'm not home, right now. I'll check as soon as I get in. I'm sorry, DS,” she apologizes, ducking her head as Dyson reprimands her before she hangs up. Lise hides her face in her hands, for a moment, before putting her cell phone away. Looks over to the other side of the table, and finds, much to her horror, that the chair is empty.

She stands, eyes searching the room, looking for her son as her heart races in her chest. Algonquin Bay is small, people here are usually friendly, but Joel is a trusting child. If someone with a nice face were to approach him, they could take him without much of a fuss, and-

“Tall vanilla chai, petit cocoa, and a very cute boy to go.”

She whirls around and finds herself face-to-face with none other than one Rebecca Whyland. Whose eyes widen almost comically as she recognizes her.

“Lise,” the redhead breathes, quickly setting down the tray with their drinks before she drops them. And looks down, drawing Lise's eyes in the same direction.

Joel is holding Whyland's hand, grinning broadly at the redhead. It makes Lise shake her head, at her child.

“Ey, Joel, qu'est-ce que j'ai te dit, hein?” she asks him, gently pulling him over.

It makes Whyland let go of Joel's hand and take a step back, to put some space between the two of them.

“I'm, I'm so sorry,” she stammers. “I had no idea... I didn't know he was, well, yours,” she mutters. Frowns, for a moment, looking down at the boy again, almost as if she's looking for a, hidden note, or maybe looking for some resemblance, something in Joel's face that could have, should have, tipped her off as to who his mother is.

There really isn't. Joel has her eyes, at least in shape, and in the way they narrow down to slits when he laughs. He has her freckles, as well, and her lower lip. But his nose and his ears, as well as his overall facial shape, those he inherited from his father. Kelly and him, they have the same jawline, Lise has noticed. It's especially obvious when she looks at childhood pictures of the younger woman and compares them to how Joel looks, now. Between the two of them, Kelly looks more like Joel than Lise does.

Lise shakes her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. As fascinating as the topic may be, it's not exactly all that important, right now. When she's standing in front of her ex at a coffee shop. The ex that she's pretty sure actually went to jail.

“I, should have guessed,” Wyland mutters, French accent coating her words. She looks, older. Which isn't that much of a surprise, really. It's been over five years, since they last saw each other. Wow. Has it really been that long? It feels, shorter, somehow, but also much longer, at the same time. Lise doesn't think about what happened back then daily anymore. The dust has settled, her reputation has been building up again, the damage done by her, indiscretion with Whyland slowly repairing itself. People no longer stare at her when she introduces herself, the first connection to her name in people’s minds isn’t ‘the cop that slept with the hooker’ any longer. And she’s grateful for that.

“Maman,” Joel pipes up and Lise bends down to pick him up at the unhappy sound in his voice.

“C'est une, vielle connaisance de moi,” she tells him. “C'est-”

“Vero,” Whyland cuts in quickly. “I, go by my middle name, now. Less Google results, that way,” she adds with a meaningful arch of her eyebrow.

Right. It's been a while, since Lise had to deal with that particular consequence of their brief relationship. The fact that, if someone Googled her name in combination with Algonquin Bay police, they were highly likely to find newspaper reports of her, indiscretion. It hadn't mattered, at the time, that she hadn't known Rebecca was an escort. It hadn't mattered that they'd had an, albeit short-lived, relationship beyond the physical. People found out that she'd slept with a known sex worker, and Lise's name had been dragged through the mud for months following the reveal.

“Right,” she nods. Swallows thickly, trying to find a way to ask without accidentally outing Whyland or making things more difficult, for her.

“Nine months, I did six, then got an early parole thanks to good behavior and it having been a nonviolent offense,” Whyland tells her. Smiles, at Joel, and waves at him. “Je suis desolee. L'anglais est nul, hein?”

“He speaks English,” Lise laughs at her apology and Joel's look of utter confusion. “Say 'I'm bilingual',” she prompts him with a kiss to his cheek.

“You're pretty.”

The boy's compliment makes her blush furiously, as Whyland lets out a bark of laughter.

“He is your kid alright,” she chuckles with a shake of her head, an amused grin tugging on her lips as she tilts her head at Joel. “You have a pretty great maman, you know that?”

“She's a p'lice off'cer,” Joel nods gravely. And promptly causes Whyland to pull a face.

“Yeah, I know. Too bad, really,” she sighs, causing Lise's eyes to widen. “I jest, I jest,” the redhead adds quickly, holding out a pacifying hand towards her. “I can, kind of respect your job, even if I don't necessarily agree with every law.”

“Maybe we shouldn't...” Lise offers weakly.

“Maybe not,” Whyland agrees. Her eyes settle on Joel again, before her face lights up. “Un moment,” she murmurs and disappears, before popping up again, holding out a plastic to-go coffee cup to him. It's kind of cute, with the bears and moose printed all over it, and the Canada leaves.

“If you ever feel like getting some cocoa again, tell Maman to give us your cup, and you get a free cake pop or cookie with it,” she tells Joel, who smiles as he hugs the cup close.

“What do you say?” Lise prompts him, bumping his shoulder.

“Merci,” Joel mumbles, casting a shy glance at Whyland, who smiles at him in return.

“You're welcome,” she nods. “I, uh, I usually don't work afternoon or late shifts. Prefer the early morning ones. You know, just, putting that out there. In case you'd, like to know, for, whatever reason,” she tells Lise. Who closes her eyes for a second.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. It's not like she'd go out of her way, to avoid Wyland, but at the same time, she may have hesitated coming here again. Though as, unpleasant, as the consequences of this relationship were, Rebecca is not Josh. Lise still avoids places they used to go to, as a couple, places she knows he particularly liked, just so she won't accidentally run into him.

“Have a nice day, you two,” Whyland nods and waves briefly at Joel, before she returns to the counter and starts helping her colleague hand out orders.

“Maman?”

“Hm? Sorry,” Lise apologizes at Joel's confused expression. “Let's get home, huh,” she mutters and sets him down. Grabs her purse and their drinks, making Joel hold onto her coat as they leave the coffee shop.

* * *

She never noticed them before. The little, freckles, in Larren's eyes. The little specks of brown amongst the green.

Jennifer sighs and hides her face in her hands for a moment, and Lise decides to take the opportunity to take away the other woman's drink.

She presses her index finger to her lips in a shushing gesture and motions for the bartender to take away the drink. The man arches an eyebrow at her before he shrugs and does as he's asked.

Just in time, because Larren lets out a loud groan and removes her hands from her face, intending, no doubt, to further drown her sorrows.

“Where-” she starts and Lise sees her brows dip briefly, before realizations dawns on the other woman and she looks up to glare at Lise. “You have no right-”

“You're technically not on the clock, but if you keep drinking, I will make sure you get the bonesaw treatment, tomorrow,” Lise cuts her off, warning her.

She should have taken Szelagy to Toronto, she thinks. But then again, Larren and her, they usually work well together. She likes the other woman. They, click, in a different way than Lise does with anyone else on the team. And she hadn't known, about the break-up.

Well, to be fair, Larren did mention a, rough patch. Differing opinions in regards to getting married and in general where the relationship was heading. Back when Larren was still doing the 'cat dates' with Moose, she'd asked Lise for advice, after her girlfriend had asked her to move in with her. The dark-haired woman ended up managing to stall, for almost nine more months, before the two ended up getting an apartment together, and even then, Larren had seemed, reluctant and uncomfortable, to Lise.

“I really fucked up, didn't I?” Larren murmurs and rubs a hand over her face. Shakes her head and gets out her wallet, to pay for her drinks and Lise stands, ready to catch her, in case the other woman finds herself more intoxicated than she anticipates. She's no lightweight, Lise knows that, but three whiskeys will make themselves felt after a bit, nonetheless.

“I'm sure it will look much better, in the morning,” Lise offers as they leave the bar and start heading back to the hotel. The cold air feels good on her face, after the stifling atmosphere at the bar, and it seems to help clear Larren's mind, as well.

“Would you forgive him, if John told you 'no thanks' to a proposal?” Larren asks her pointedly. It makes Lise tilt her head, genuinely contemplating the questions. She's not about to propose, to John, nor does she think he'll do that, either. Their relationship, it's, stable. She has all the reassurance of his love she could possibly ask for.

“Perhaps,” she finally answers. Bumps her upper arm against Larren's, for a moment. “I'm not saying she's not hurt. I'm just saying, you're getting some, distance, right now. That has a tendency to, put things into perspective, yes?”

“Maybe,” Larren frowns, rubbing on a spot on her gloves before she lets her arms fall to her sides. “In case the perspective ends up being kicking me out, you don't, by chance, have a couch I could crash on?”

“Non,” Lise shakes her head with a soft laugh. “We have a guest bedroom. Which is open, if you really do need it.”

“Thanks,” Larren sighs and loops her arm through Lise's, leaning against her as they walk the few remaining blocks to the hotel. Lise gets their keys and steers Larren towards the elevators, after. By then it's evident that the woman is feeling the alcohol, her pupils are blown wide and she's swaying slightly on her feet.

Lise shakes her head at her in amusement and steers her down the hallway, looking for their room numbers. Larren leans against the wall with her back as Lise opens her door, thinking that it will be much faster if she does it. Larren in her state would probably fumble and curse and end up trying to kick the door in.

“Voila,” Lise murmurs as she opens the door. And finds Larren starring at her, eyes wide and strangely focused. She frowns briefly before steering her into her room.

Debates just closing the door and leaving Larren to sort herself out, but then that strikes her as kind of cruel and unnecessary. So she follows her in and turns on the lights, and finds Larren sitting on her bed, staring down at her boots, trying to puzzle those out.

“They have a zipper, on the inside,” Lise points out to her.

“I knew that,” Larren nods. Bends down, before coming up again quickly, looking a little pale around her nose. Lise rolls her eyes and walks over. Kneels down and pulls down the zippers, so Larren can kick off her boots.

As she stands, she holds out a hand to the other woman, and Larren takes it, allowing Lise to pull her to her feet.

“Coat,” Lise reminds her, giving a gentle tug on the material.

“Huh,” Larren murmurs and blinks, once, twice, before looking down. When she fails to move, Lise rolls her eyes and undoes the buttons, before pulling down the zipper, as well. Pulls on the coat, pulling it off Larren's shoulders, which seems to kick her brain into gear again.

She moves her arms then, to shake the coat off, and Lise smiles at the other woman briefly, before the expression in her eyes registers. She has a fraction of a second in warning and quickly turns her head, causing Larren's lips to land on the corner of her mouth instead.

“Non,” Lise shakes her head and takes a step back. Grabs Larren's wrists and removes her hands from where they've ghosted over her waist. “Non, Jennifer,” she repeats.

Larren lets out a soft sigh, her lips forming a pout, and Lise has to consciously push down her anger. Yelling at her right now won't do any good. She's clearly drunk, there won't be any reasoning with her. Though Lise vows to have some strong words for her come morning, no matter if the other woman will remember the incident or not. She didn't think she had to draw a line like this with her, thought that Larren was well aware of where their friendship ended, but apparently, she needs a reminder.

Lise lets go of her wrists and tells her to drink some water before she leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She doesn't linger, instead unlocks her own door and slips inside. Closes that door and locks it, before she leans against it with her back. Hits her head against the wood once, twice, berating herself.

She takes off her own coat and boots. Tosses the coat onto the empty chair and flops down on her bed as she takes out her cell phone, tears starting to burn in her eyes as guilt gnaws at her.

John is the first on her recent contacts. His phone rings three times, before he picks up.

“Yeah?”

“Hey,” Lise murmurs and closes her eyes. “I'm sorry, it's late... Did I wake you?”

“No,” he responds. “I was just checking on Joel.”

“How is he?” Lise asks and sits up.

“Alright-ish, I think,” John answers. “He had some trouble going to bed, kept asking for another story every time I finished one. I offered him cuddling in our bed, provided he told me if he got sleepy. That did the trick. We cuddled for a bit, and I let him take your shirt to bed when he said he was getting sleepy. He's asleep now.”

“Oh,” Lise murmurs and reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose, in an attempt to stave off her tears. It's been a while, since she had to go out of town like this. The last few times she'd caught the case during the day and didn't come home. But this time, they caught it in the middle of the night, so she wasn't there to drop Joel off in the morning, as well.

She did record a short video message for him, in the briefing room at the precinct. To let him know that she loves him and that she is sorry she didn't get to kiss him goodbye. Promised him lots of cuddles, once she gets back. She consciously didn't mention facetiming or talking on the phone, as it usually only upsets Joel further. He does better, with voice messages or short videos, they've started to discover.

“Are you okay?” John asks. “Something happen, with the case?”

“Non,” Lise shakes her head. Draws a slow breath. She'd like some, guidance. A manual, on how to handle situations like this.

“John,” she murmurs and braces herself. “I, uh... Someone, tried to, kiss me,” she admits. Braces herself, for his outburst.

Nothing like this ever happened before. Not as far as Lise knows, at least. She never kissed anyone else, since she started dating John years and years ago. Never felt, tempted would be the wrong word, probably. There hasn't been a single moment, whether she was sober or tipsy or drunk, where she'd desired anyone else and had even the faintest inkling to follow any such impulse. She's been mad at him and really pissed, as well, but that still hadn't crossed her mind.

And she's pretty sure that John didn't have any such encounters, himself. He would have told her, probably. At the least, she'd have been able to tell that something was wrong. He'd have been chewing on it, beating himself up about it...

“Are you alright?” John inquires, sounding, worried? Lise blinks in surprise and draws a shaky breath. “They, they didn't hurt you, did they?” he presses before she can answer, and Lise feels her blood run cold when she realizes what he's probably thinking.

“Non, it's, I'm fine,” she hurries to tell him. “I'm fine, John. It wasn't... I didn't get assaulted.”

A ragged breath carries over the line, followed by John's soft chuckle.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “That, scared me.”

“I'm sorry,” Lise apologizes. “I didn't think about what you'd think, when I phrased it like that,” she shakes her head at herself.

“You really are okay?” John asks again. “Because if you aren't-”

“I'm fine,” she shakes her head. Draws a slow breath. “It, wasn't a stranger,” she admits, her heart racing in her chest.

“Huh?”

“Larren got drunk. I don't think she was really aware, of what she was doing when she tried it,” Lise tells him. And frowns at the sudden silence carrying over the line.

“John?” she murmurs. “John?” she repeats his name when he fails to answer. “Hello? Are you still there?” she frowns and moves the phone from her ear, to check the reception.

“Yeah,” she hears his answer when she puts it back against her ear. “Sorry. I just... Larren kissed you?”

“She tried to,” Lise corrects him. “I kind of turned my head, so she, missed,” she sighs. Worries at her lower lip, for a moment. “I don't know, if she'll remember this, come morning, but I'll talk to her about it. But in the meantime, I... I wanted, I needed, to tell you...” she trails off. Takes a shuddering breath.

“Lise-”

“I'm, so sorry,” she apologizes, tears burning in her eyes. “I should have realized what was going to happen,” she shakes her head at herself. “I'm sorry-”

“Lise, stop,” John interrupts her. “It's alright,” he tells her, his voice gentle. “It's not your fault.”

She opens her mouth to protest immediately. Of course it's her fault. She knows Larren is gay. She knows that the other woman is going through a rough time. She knew she was well beyond tipsy. Yet she'd still remained physically close. Hadn't removed herself. She'd even allowed physical touches, between them.

Lise quickly shakes her head at herself. Where on earth is this coming from?

No, it isn't her fault. She didn't do anything to encourage Larren. She's not a mind reader, nor a psychic, she couldn't have predicted what the other woman would do. Larren and her, they have always been kind of casual, with touching each other. Not inappropriately. But squeezing each other's shoulders, bumping their shoulders, things like that, during moments on the job when either one of them needed some reassurance and words were hard.

To be honest, Lise doesn't even think Larren is attracted to her, specifically. Is pretty sure that the woman would have kissed any other woman in that situation.

“I'm sorry,” she still apologizes, again. “Maybe I, perhaps I should not have told you just yet,” she muses and rubs her hand over her eyes.

“I won't drive down, or blow up her phone, don't worry,” John tells her. There's a brief pause, before she hears him draw a controlled breath. “Do you think you can, work with her?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Lise nods. “I mean, unless she outright tells me she has a huge crush on me or is in love with me tomorrow morning, it will be fine.”

“You sure, about this?” John pushes. “I get that it's a little, tricky, given her sexual orientation, but that shouldn't prevent you from reporting her, if she makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“It won't,” Lise answers. “I promise,” she adds when she can just imagine him arching his brow at her. She's a firm believer in 'same rules for everyone', at least where this is concerned. So, turning this around, taking it for a different spin, how would she react, if this were, Szelagy? Or Fox?

Lise doesn't think she would report either one of them, not for one drunken attempt of kissing. Not when there has been no other indication of romantic intentions towards her. Larren has never before crossed any line with her, she hasn't made crude jokes or touched her in a way that Lise would have thought of as inappropriate. She doesn't comment on her relationship with John in an obscene way, nor does she ever talk about Lise's sexuality when they are on the job.

“I love you,” John tells her, his voice gentle. “I'm sorry you're stuck in Toronto with her.”

“I'm not stuck,” Lise shakes her head. She could call Dyson and be on her way back to Algonquin Bay in a matter of hours, if she felt really uncomfortable.

“When you've talked to her, let me know how it went, okay?” John asks. “Not because I feel like I might... drive home a point,” he tries, drawing a soft laugh from Lise.

“I do not appreciate the cavemen mentality of 'stay away from my woman',” she reminds him softly. “I am yours. I chose you, John, over everyone else. So please do not feel like you have to remind others of that, because that might just end up changing my mind.”

“Noted,” he replies. “I know you're your own person, and I don't feel like I, own you,” he continues. “But I want to protect you. Not in the sense that I have to protect 'my property', I don't mean it like that,” he hastens to add. “But... in the way we talked about, when you were pregnant and I wanted to move,” he tries to explain. “I know you can take care of yourself. At the same time, you're so important to me, Lise. I love you so much, I want to make sure you're alright. That no one hurts you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispers and closes her eyes against the fresh tears that are building. She misses him. Misses him so much, right now. Would give a lot, to just be able to curl up next to him and have him hug her and hold her and tell her it's okay.

Just a few days. Two, maybe three. Then she'll be back in Algonquin Bay, back in his arms. She can hold on for that long.

* * *

“Take it. I didn't spit in it,” Lise says as she holds out a paper cup of coffee to Larren. Who watches her, for a moment, before she accepts the hot drink. Cradles it in her hands as Lise sits down on the steps down to the morgue. Sits down next to her.

“My first case, in CIS, John and I, we came here, to observe an autopsy. I'd never seen one, before. I almost threw up. Had to leave the room...” she trails off with a shake of her head. Takes a sip of her drink. Peppermint tea. Because she already had coffee earlier and more will just make her jittery. But she's kind of cold and could do with some warmth, and she's always found peppermint kind of, soothing, for her soul.

“I hate it when it's college kids,” Larren murmurs. “I mean, children and teens, that's just as horrific. But, college kids, it's like... they were just, taking their first steps, into adulthood. Their lives were about to start, and then...” she trails off.

“Yeah,” Lise sighs. Reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I'm sorry, Delorme,” Larren says, again.

“It's fine,” she shakes her head and bumps the other woman's shoulder. She texted John earlier. Told him that Larren and her talked. Well, Larren did, at least. Talked, ranted, really, at Lise, about how sorry she is, how horrible it is, what she did. How she will never, ever do it again. That she'd understand, if Lise hated her now. That she'll self-report the incident and ask Dyson to replace her immediately.

Lise had cut her off then. Had told her that it was alright. That she didn't want to report it. She'd been faintly considering it, in case Larren wouldn't have shown any remorse, but the other cop is absolutely ridden with guilt. As far as Lise is concerned, it was a drunken mistake that won't ever happen again, she trusts Larren on that claim.

It will probably be awkward, between them, for a while. Because Lise still can't read minds, and the way Larren is avoiding meeting her eyes, it makes her, hesitant. It could just be her feeling incredibly awful and guilty, about the almost-kiss. Or, and this is where Lise's hesitation comes from, it could be that the incident triggered a realization in Larren, in regards to the nature of her feelings towards Lise, and now she's trying to, get those under control again.

Larren knows that she told John about what happened. She'd swallowed, hard, before nodding. After breakfast, Lise found a forwarded message, on her phone. John had sent her the apology text that Larren sent him, so that she'd know what they were talking about. He'd also included his own reply, a mere 'I appreciate it, but I'm not the one you should be apologizing to', and that had been that. It had surprised her, actually. Makes her wonder, if he'd react the same way, if Larren were a guy. Or if it registers differently, to him, because she isn't.

“When I was a kid, I used to think college students, they were so old. But now, the older I get, the more I find myself thinking, they're just kids. They're still so young, so innocent...” Larren trails off with a shake of her head. Takes a sip of her coffee, a hiss leaving her before she pulls a face.

“Yeah, it's bad,” Lise agrees with her. One more reason, why she went with tea.

“Thanks, anyway,” she mutters and gets up, to throw the cup away. Stretches and rolls her neck before she leans her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“What?” Lise asks as she watches the other woman think.

“Nothing,” Jennifer shakes her head. “I was just thinking, do we know which classes Sheila attended? I mean, which ones she actually went to, the day of her disappearance?”

“Shouldn't be hard to find out,” Lise frowns and gets out her phone, looking for the number of the Dean's office.

* * *

She lets out a soft sigh, hiding her face against John’s neck for a moment. Feels him run his hand up and down her back as she tries to catch her breath again.

God bless Kelly and her willingness to babysit her half-brother on such short notice. Lise will pick up her favorite wine and, something else, to express her gratitude. She doesn’t know what yet, but then again, half-naked while still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm isn’t when she wants to think about her partner’s daughter.

John’s lips ghost over her temple in a gentle caress, a stark contrast to the heated kisses they exchanged just moments before. Lise can feel how bruised her lips are, from how she kept crashing them against John’s.

“Feel better?” he asks and she lets out a content sigh.

“Very much so,” she confirms, leaning back to meet his eyes. “I needed that,” she admits, gently stroking her thumbs over his cheeks.

“Me, too,” he confesses, a blush spreading across his face. Lise grins at him for a moment, before pulling him into another kiss.

John pulls back, tearing an unhappy whimper from her at the brief loss of contact, but then he sits down on the couch and pulls her into his lap, holding her close.

They didn’t even make it halfway to the bedroom, never mind the bed. She’s basically just jumped his bones the moment she stepped into the house, and begun tearing at his clothes. Not exactly something she’s proud of, but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be ashamed of it, either. She loves John, they have regular sex, and she’s attracted to him. She really, really needed him today. Needed to feel him against her, needed to feel his skin against her own. Needed to feel his arms around her as he moved inside of her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, her voice low. “About what happened, in Toron-”

John’s lips on her own cuts off her apology. He kisses her gently, unhurried. Lets the touch linger, and when he pulls back, his gaze is soft and understanding shines in his eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize, Lise,” he reminds her. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” she shrugs, tracing her fingertips over his clavicle. There’s still this lingering sense of guilt. That, despite her brain logically knowing otherwise, she should have been able to predict what was about to happen. That somehow, she should have seen it coming. That she didn’t react strongly enough, too. Should have been more angry, with Larren, should have been more assertive in her boundaries and in how much she loves John. Part of her feels like she failed him and their relationship because she didn’t smack the other woman for kissing her.

It’s silly, Lise knows that. But she can’t help but still feel like in some way, she didn’t react enough. Feels like she should make up for it, to John.

The sex, that wasn’t about that, though. It had been more like, her needing to know he forgave her. That he still loves her, still wants her, even if someone else kissed her.

Oh God, what on Earth are her thoughts? Lise frowns at herself, wondering if she should, perhaps, see a shrink, to unpack the bullshit that seems to be lurking under the surface. If she thinks that someone else pushing themselves on her would mean she’s no longer desirable, for John… Oh boy.

He lets out a deep sigh and nudges her nose with his, and Lise feels her lips tug into a smile at the intimate gesture. She missed him, missed him so terribly. And she wasn’t even gone that long.

John’s fingers bury in her hair as he pulls her into another kiss, and Lise kisses back, heat pooling in her stomach again.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else,” she suggests, but still moves to straddle his hips.

“That would mean parting long enough to make it to the bedroom,” John points out and she pulls a face at the thought.

“On second thought, the couch is really nice,” she declares, hearing him chuckle as he pulls her against himself again and nods into a new kiss.

“It is,” he agrees as he goes to unhook her bra, tugging a sigh from her lips as Lise arches into his mouth. Who needs a bedroom, anyway?

* * *

It’s kind of funny, she thinks, as she watches John scrub vigorously at a saucepan.

Maya seems like a really nice girl. Pardon, woman. She’s a really nice woman. Very respectful, towards John and her, and gentle, if a little awkward, with Joel.

Apparently, Joel already knew her. And Lise would be upset about it, but she gets that, stuff happens. Kelly had taken him grocery shopping on their last sibling-date, and they ran into Maya. She didn’t leave them alone with each other, and they did part ways after the grocery store, so it’s alright, in Lise’s book. And honestly, she doesn’t think that’s what John’s currently trying to work through as he goes on abusing the kitchenware.

She wonders if she’ll be like that, when Joel’s old enough to date. If she’ll feel as protective. Probably. The thought of her little boy getting his heart broken by someone, it makes her furious already, on his behalf.

“John,” she murmurs as she steps up behind him and wraps her arms around his middle. “They’re not eloping.”

“I know,” he presses out between his teeth.

“They’re adults,” she reminds him.

“I know.”

“And honestly, I think she’s nice,” she adds as she rests her cheek against his back, between his shoulder blades. John tenses before he drops the brush and turns, dislodging Lise and tearing a sound of protest from her lips.

“How can you tell?” he asks, brows furrowed. She looks up at him, her mouth opening.

“Wait,” she mutters, brows dipping. “Is this… you were a cop!” she exclaims. “You know how to read people.”

“Not in romantic situations, when they’re dating someone else,” he shakes his head. “Look, it’s… Boys, I get. I used to be one, I know how they think, how they are.”

“But Kelly’s dating a woman,” Lise tilts her head, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards in amusement. “You’re honestly this upset about it?” she asks, unable to resist the teasing lilt of her voice.

John lets out a huff and brushes her off, yanking open the dishwasher so he can stack their dirty dishes into the racks.

“Look,” Lise says and rubs a hand down his back in what she hopes is a soothing caress. “I don’t know about boys or men, but I think that meeting the parents, that’s not usually something people do, unless they’re serious about a person.”

He pauses before straightening. Wipes his hands on a towel, before he reaches out to settle them on her hips. Lise steps closer, bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck.

“It’s, weird,” he sighs. “It was weird when she first started dating and brought someone home for the first time. I thought, I thought that I got easier, but… I mean, it’s, it’s kind of, new again. Feels like when she first started going out with boys all over again.”

Lise draws a slow breath, reminding herself that he was blindsided by Kelly’s coming out. And the only person she’s been with, since then, was Amber. So perhaps, it being weird for him now, that’s normal, but it feels like it shouldn’t be weird or awkward, not beyond the usual awkwardness that John would feel with any male partner Kelly could introduce him to.

“She’d be upset if I said that to her, wouldn’t she?” he asks, ducking his head sheepishly, and Lise nods.

“Probably, yes,” she confirms. “It might feel like you not being that okay, with her dating other women.”

“It’s not that,” he quickly shakes his head, but Lise lifts her eyebrows at him in silence. Watches, as he flounders, for a moment, before he closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. “Okay, maybe it is,” John admits, his voice low.

“John.”

“It’s not that it’s a problem because they’re women,” he tries to tell her. “It’s just… I guess I had this picture, of who she’d end up with, you know? And suddenly, that’s no longer what she’s looking for, or what would be good, for her. But I haven’t quite gotten that picture out of my head yet,” he shrugs.

“See that you do,” Lise tells him, not mincing her words. “I’m serious, John. Take that mental picture and put it through a fine shredder, then set the remains on fire.”

He lets out a snort of amusement at that and she leans back, meeting and holding his eyes.

“I’m not joking,” Lise says. “If you don’t want her to get upset, stop thinking she’ll end up with a man eventually. It’s hurtful, and disrespectful and-”

“It’s not like I’m trying to do it,” he argues. “It just… maybe she should date more. Bring in a string of girls. That’ll shock me out of any lingering idea of a future partner of hers.”

“John,” she sighs, disappointment welling up inside of her. “Look, can’t you… I don’t know,” she frowns in frustration. “At least give Maya a chance?”

“I am,” he nods. “Really,” he adds at her skeptical expression. “Objectively, I think she’s kind of nice. Just in the context of her dating my kid, it’s, a bit harder to deal with,” he shrugs. “I promise I’m working on it.”

It makes her let out a deep sigh of frustration. She hates that. Hates that it is an issue, for some people, that when they actually see someone gay be with someone of the same gender, they find it hard to accept it, even if they knew about their sexuality beforehand. It sucks, and she feels for Kelly. She wants John to be different, wants him to do better. Better than this, at least.

“Please do,” she nods, patting his chest. He searches her face for a moment as he takes her hand, holding onto her.

“It’s not like I’m upset with her dating women. Honestly, I’m okay, with her being gay. I promise,” he says. “And I promise I won’t give either Maya or Kelly a hard time. I’m just, not over the moon, about her seeing anyone, I guess.”

“You do realize she’s not a little child any more, right?” Lise tilts her head at him.

“Yeah,” John nods. “But in my head, she still is. I know she’s twenty-six. But in my head, she’s also fifteen, and ten, and six, and three, and all those different ages,” he shrugs. “Like Joel isn’t just the four year old for you. He’s also that tiny baby, and the toddler, and those soft flutters in your belly, and that barely recognizable blob on the ultrasound.”

It makes her inhale deeply, his words, and the memories they conjure up. The years she’s had, with their son, and how many more there will be, in the future, that she can’t wait for. And he may have a point, Lise hesitates to admit. She finds it difficult, sometimes, to allow Joel his independence in some regards. Keeps thinking how he’s too small, too young, but then is startled to realize that no, he’s not. He’s growing up and in some cases, a lot more capable than she gives him credit for.

“You may have a point, at least in that regard,” she concedes.

“I’ll try and do better,” John nods, leaning in to brush his lips over her forehead. “Promise.”

* * *

She draws a deep breath, pressing her hands against her back. This was the last thing she’d needed, today. On top of a failure to pin a stabbing on the guy she knows did it, her getting her period, and Joel having been an absolute nightmare of stubbornness this morning, a call from the hospital about her mother having collapsed was definitely not what she’d wanted.

Her father is sitting in one of the chairs in the family waiting area, his head bowed over a cheap cup of terrible coffee. Lise wants to take it from him and take him to grab a decent one. But they can’t very well leave, and even if they could, she doesn’t think her father would.

It’s weird. She never thought of him as a particularly caring type of person. Between the two of them, her mother is the more affectionate one. When Lise was little, she would hug her and kiss her and rock her to comfort her. Her father never did, he’d always been, emotionally distant. Which was why it had surprised her so much, his initial reaction to Joel. He’d adored the little guy and cooed over him when he’d been a baby. The sight had thrown her with how far off it had been, from the type of person she’d thought her father was, had believed him to be.

“Family of, Gabrielle Delorme?”

Lise turns to look at the doctor as her father’s head whips up and he makes to stand, but the woman waves him down, sitting down in one of the chairs herself. She looks, tired, Lise thinks, frowning at the idea that the woman that’s treating her mother might not be on top of her game. Might be tired and prone to miss things.

“I’m sorry if I come off as rather harsh, in this case, but time is of the essence. You are husband and daughter?” she asks, and Lise nods slowly, sinking into a free chair herself. Her heart is racing in her chest, worry seizing her at the doctor’s words. It sounds serious, that the woman will forgo any niceties, so that her mother can be treated quickly.

“Okay,” the woman nods, checking her notes. “Your wife collapsed during grocery shopping. When the paramedics did the usual neurological tests, they discovered a notable left-side weakness, as well as a marked slurring of her speech. She was rushed here, for a suspected stroke. We did a CT scan, which does confirm the suspicion and turns it into a diagnosis. In the last fifteen minutes, we have also seen a deterioration, her symptoms have gotten worse, and we have had to switch to translating our requests to French.”

Her father draws a ragged breath and hides his face in his hands as Lise leans back in her chair, shocked. A stroke? Her mother, she’s not even sixty-five years old. She can’t be having a stroke, that’s, that’s ridiculous. No, it, it has to be something else. This can’t be it, surely they’ve made a mistake.

“Since it has been less than four hours since the initial onset of the symptoms, there is a drug we can give her. It will thin her blood considerably, but it will possibly reverse the effects of the event, and help stabilize her condition. However, as with all blood thinners, there is a risk, and with this one, because it is so fast-acting and potent, they are increased.”

“Risks, like, what?” Lise asks, her brows dipping as she tries to make sense of all this. Her head is spinning, much like when she is a at work and they get in a huge batch of evidence and she has to somehow fit it into the context of her case.

“Increased risk of bleeding, not just from obvious wounds, but also internally. There is a chance that giving her the drug will not reverse the effects of the stroke, too. There is a chance that, if we give it to her, she could die from a bleed.”

Lise draws a ragged breath, covering her mouth with her hand as she closes her eyes.

“Normally, we would ask the patient, what they want, but she is no condition to make any kind of decision in this matter,” the doctor explains, looking back and forth between Lise and her father, waiting for them to say something.

She swallows thickly, glancing at her father. He seems to be completely overwhelmed by it all, and honestly, Lise doesn’t blame him. She feels like, going home, and curling up in bed with a blanket over head. It would be so much easier than, this. This isn’t making any sense, and she can’t, she can’t do this. She’s not a doctor, she doesn’t have any medical knowledge, beyond the measures of CPR and first aid. This is beyond her comprehension. How is she supposed to make the right decision, here?

“What would you recommend?” she asks, searching the doctor’s face, looking for answers, or at least a clue. The woman hesitates, drawing a deep breath.

“I cannot tell you what to do,” she shakes her head, and Lise nearly yells at her to quit this stupid cat-and-mouse game. “I can tell you what the risks are, and what the likely outcome in both scenarios is, but I cannot give you guarantees. I’m sorry,” she shrugs, checking her watch as if to remind them that they are racing against the clock, here.

Lise shakes her head, reaching up to pull the hair tie from her hair, to run her hand through it in frustration.

“Can we see her?” her father asks, his voice rough, the words coated in a thick French accent. It startles her a little, to hear him speak. He’d been so quiet, so silent, while they were waiting, and then as the doctor explained things. To be honest, for a moment, Lise forgot he is there at all.

“Yes, of course,” the doctor nods. “Fair warning, though. She won’t be like you remember. She’s weak. We are giving her oxygen via a mask, to make things a little easier. She can’t move her left side, her mouth is drooping a little, too. She can’t speak very well, and she really struggles understanding English. Do you normally speak French, at home?”

“Yes,” Lise nods, her mouth curving into a soft smile, for a second, before it disappears again. The doctor nods and stands, gesturing for them to follow. Her father shuffles his feet, slowly rising, and Lise has to consciously think of standing up, has to talk her body into it, before it finally follows her commands.

Her mother is on a gurney, heart monitor wires disappearing into the hospital gown. She’s wearing the oxygen mask, it’s a little crooked, and the first thing her father does, after kissing her mother’s forehead, is straightening it carefully. Lise can hear him talk to her, under his breath, whisper to her, though she doesn’t step close enough to hear what it is he’s saying.

She looks so different. So old, and frail. Such a far cry from the strong, steadfast woman Lise remembers her as, the one she’s always been, ever since she can remember.

“If you give her the drug, she’ll be able to move again?” she asks, turning to the doctor. Feels herself slip into ‘crisis management mode’, her focus zeroing in on the next task on a mental list.

The doctor hesitates, tilting her head a little as she works on her wording.

“Hopefully, yes,” she answers, and Lise lets out a frustrated sound at the vague answer. “I know it is frustrating, and difficult. Trust me, I want to tell you that yes, she will be able to move and talk again. But if I did, I would not be doing my job,” the woman reminds her, her voice surprisingly gentle.

“There are no guarantees, with this. It could be that the damage to her brain is too severe and that busting the clot will not resolve the issues. It could be that, once the clot is gone, she’ll be back to her old self in days. The brain is such a complex organ and sadly, some of our work is in the realm of hypothesis and guesswork. I am sorry I don’t have better answers, for you.”

Lise sighs and waves her off, suddenly feeling bone tired from it all. She doesn’t have the energy to stand here and puzzle out probabilities and weight possible consequences and side effects against each other. She, the one who likes numbers and stuff like that, likes analyzing situations and breaking them down to their components, she’s suddenly overwhelmed with it and doesn’t have the mental capacity for it.

“So, if we give this to her, what are the risks, again? You said just, bleeding?”

“Yes,” the woman confirms, shifting as she looks at her patient, for a moment. “She would be kept for observation, of course, we always do that with our patients if we do this sort of aggressive treatment. But there is a very significant risk that, if your mother were to start to bleed, we might not be able to stop her from bleeding out.”

“What are the odds, of her improving on her own, over time?” Lise asks, watching as her father takes his wife’s hand, kissing the back of it. It seems like her mother isn’t reacting to him, at all. That’s not like her.

“She might,” the doctor allows. “There is a chance of slow improvement, with time and extensive therapy. However, since she has started to deteriorate, and considering the risk of another stroke…” she trails off, making Lise inhale deeply.

“Okay,” she nods, crossing her arms. “Okay,” she repeats, licking her lips. She can’t just stand here, watching her mother slowly die. She won’t, she refuses to do that.

“You have my consent. Give her the drug,” she decides, her stomach clenching at the decision. But really, what other choice is there to make? Not give her the medication and leave her to be like, this? Unable to walk, barely able to communicate?

The doctor nods, watching her for a moment. “Pardon my asking, but, are you close?”

Lise sighs and reaches up to rub a hand over her brows.

“Not right now, no,” she admits. “We never were that sort of, close and cuddly, but we haven’t spoken in a while, and…” she trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-tired shrug. “I’ll go with whatever my father decides to do, he knows her a lot better than me, of course, and he is her husband. But, if you need to make a quick decision and he can’t make himself make that kind of call, I’m in favor of giving her the medicine,” she adds. “I don’t think she would like to live like this,” she murmurs, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Okay,” the doctor nods, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “Can I do anything, for you? Cup of tea, or call anyone?” she offers, but Lise waves her off.

“I’ll grab some coffee, and call my partner,” she mutters, gesturing towards the doors. “Can you tell him, where I went?” she asks, nodding towards her father.

“Of course,” the doctor nods and Lise forces a smile before turning on her heel and practically fleeing from the area, so that they won’t see her break down.

* * *

John’s fingers are toying with the hair at the nape of her neck. It’s, comforting. Lise draws a shuddering breath and turns to hide her face against his chest. Tries, in vain, to block out the rest of the world.

It’s so incredibly loud. She wonders if it was like this, earlier, and she’d just been too busy to notice, or if things have picked up. It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s loud now and it bothers her, all the sounds and the bright lights…

She’s a goddamn police detective. She comes here all the time, accompanying suspects, or victims. Comes here to ask questions and start or continue investigations. Half the staff here knows her name, almost all of them know her face. And now they have seen her sit in John’s lap, curled up into herself like a little girl.

“Sh, it’s okay,” John murmurs when she jerks in his arms. Tightens his hold on her and just holds her fast against himself. Lise draws a shuddering breath and tries to relax a little. Tries to calm down. The last thing she needs, is for them to offer her a sedative again.

She should probably find out, where her father went. If he’s still with her mo-

The thought makes her clench her eyes shut. Makes her draw a shuddering breath, tears welling up in her eyes again.

She’s so, so thankful, that John got here before… Before…

Her fingers twist into the material of his shirt and she tries to get closer. Tries to climb inside of him, tries to crawl out of her own skin and into his. There won’t be that much pain there, she doesn’t think. He was never that much of a fan, of her family, anyway. If he were Josh, things would be different, but he isn’t. He’s John and he’s her rock, her everything, and she’s so, so lucky, that he’s here, right now. Because Lise, she doesn’t know what she’d do, without him. Break down, probably, and then not be able to get herself back together.

He rubs his hand up and down her back in gentle caress, before jerking. She can feel the vibration against her thigh, can hear the low hum of his phone going off.

“Sorry,” he mutters and shifts, trying to get to his phone without causing her to slide off his lap. Lise moves, shifts her legs to make it easier for him. She lifts her head and sees Kelly’s name flash across the display, worry seizing hold of her again.

“Hey Kells,” John greets her in answering the call, Lise tilting her head to catch what the younger woman is saying. Something about Joel, there’s a lot of background noise-

“You know what, I don’t really care, today,” he says with a sigh, pressing his lips against Lise’s forehead for a moment. “Try to get him to eat something, even if you have to bribe him with candy. I’m really sorry, Kells.”

“-fine, Daddy,” Lise hears the younger woman’s voice. She suddenly feels like her heart is being torn in two and struggles to breathe. Sits up and hugs herself, motioning for the phone.

“Hang on a sec, darling,” John frowns, lowering the phone to talk to her. “What is it?”

“I, I want, Joey, I-” Lise stammers, unable to form a coherent sentence. She just, she has to talk to Joel. Has to hear his little voice, has to hear him talk, to make sure he’s okay. She, she needs to go home, get to him and hug him and hold him close. She loves him, loves him so, so much-

“Okay,” John nods, lifting the phone back to his ear. “Kelly, can you put Joel on, for a moment? Lise wants to talk to him.”

With that he holds out his phone to her and Lise takes it with a shaking hand. Lifts it to her ear, drawing a steadying breath.

She half expects Kelly to still be on the line, but instead, she’d greeted by her son’s voice.

“Maman?” Joel asks, sounding a little confused and Lise clenches her eyes shut, leaning forward to rest her forehead against John’s shoulder. Feels him cradle the back of her head and hold her gently against him, making a soft shushing sound.

“Allo, mon ange,” she greets him, hating how her voice shakes. “Comment vas-tu, mon petit?” she asks, hoping to buy herself some time.

“Suis fine,” Joel answers, sounding actually pretty happy. “Kelly pickeded me up, she said we gon’ go make pizza, for dinner!”

At his enthusiasm, Lise lets out a teary chuckle.

“Pizza, huh? Que veux-tu sur ta pizza? Salami et frommage?”

“Oui!” Joel exclaims, sudden clatter carrying over the line, followed by Kelly’s voice.

“He dropped the phone,” the younger woman chuckles. “I’ll pick up that premade dough from the store, it’ll keep him busy and entertained with making the food. Anything you’d like me to put on it, for your parts?”

Lise swallows thickly at the woman’s thoughtfulness and closes her eyes, for a moment.

“I, I think I’d like ham and pineapple, actually. Joel probably wants to try it, too, let him have a little slice. Last time he didn’t care for it, but it might have changed. And John likes-”

“Bell pepper and salami and olives, yeah,” Kelly interrupts her. “I’ll see if I can find a small glass of olives, if I don’t, he’ll have to do without,” she chuckles before sobering. “Lise, I just… I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Thanks, for taking care of Joel. It, it helps a lot.”

“Anytime,” John’s daughter replies. “If you need me to do anything else, just tell me. Call, or text. I have work tomorrow, but it’s a middle shift, so don’t worry about getting home soon. I know where stuff is, and how to do most of Joel’s rituals. We’ll figure it out, so don’t worry about any of that stuff, okay?”

“Thank you, Kelly,” she repeats, feeling so very, very tired.

“De rien.”

With that, Kelly signs off, and Lise hands the phone back to John. He takes it, hugging her against himself and kissing her cheek.

“Love you,” he tells her. She swallows thickly and moves to brush her lips over his, unable to say the words, right now. It’s just, too much. Her emotions are all over the place, she has no idea what she’s feeling, right now. Even though she knows she loves him, cares for him so deeply. But saying it, right now, that’s just, not possible, for her. Not at the moment, at least.

She should probably go find her father. Check on him, make sure he’s doing, if not okay, then at least a bit better than her. Coming to think of it, they’ll probably have to drive him home, too. He shouldn’t be behind the wheel, not after, all this. She doesn’t think she’d be able to deal with losing both her parents in the same day.

Perhaps they should offer him the guest bedroom. Under different circumstances, Lise would. If this were someone else, like John’s father, or McLeod, or, anyone, really, she would. She’d be telling them that they could stay with them, if they didn’t want to be alone. But this, it’s her father. The man that hit Joel when he’d only been a little baby. The man who thought making fun of her son for getting scared easily was somehow called for. She loves him, he’s her father, but something inside her just recoils at the thought of having him in her house for the night. Even with what has just happened.

Plus, he probably blames her, for this. It had been Lise, who’d been in favor of the blood thinner. Who’d argued that it would be giving her mother the best chance at recovering her faculties. He’d been reluctant to go with it, but then relented, finally, to her. Had agreed to give her mother the drug. And things had looked up, had seemed better, after they’d administered it. She’d looked a lot better, just generally. Her eyes hadn’t been so, vacant, she’d been more responsive. Her speech even started clearing up a little already. And then she’d suddenly started deteriorating rapidly, struggling to speak, to even breathe.

Brain bleed. One of the known side effects. Lise should probably have seen that one coming. Should have known that this would happen.

Gabrielle Delorme had only been sixty-two years old.

“Where you going?” John asks as she slowly unfolds and stands, her legs protesting at the blood that’s rushing back into them. Lise gives a small shrug, running her hand through her hair.

“I think I should, find my father,” she says with a sigh. Hears him move and then feels John’s hand on her shoulder, where it meets her neck. He gives it a gentle squeeze and kisses her temple again, Lise leaning against him. She’s so, so incredibly tired. Like all her energy has just been sucked out of her body, leaving behind this zombie-like shell.

“Alright then,” he murmurs, grabbing their coats. “Let’s go see where he is.”

Lise swallows thickly before she takes his hand. Holds onto him as hard as she can as they step from the family room, going to look for any of the staff that might know where her father is and tell them what is going to happen now.

* * *

Ruya holds out the mug to her and Lise takes it, cradling it in her hands as steam rises from the mug.

“It smells really good,” she murmurs, lifting it up and blowing on the steaming hot tea before she takes a careful sip. Her friend makes a soft sound as she sits down next to her, pulling up the blanket around their laps again.

“Hanif always makes it for me, when I feel a bit…” she trails off with a tilt of her head. Watches Lise, for a moment, before she nods towards the TV. “Do you want to watch?”

Lise gives a mute shrug, not really caring what it is they put on. She’d just, needed a break. Needed something like a girl’s night. Needed to just, get out of the house and away from her responsibilities for an evening.

“As long as it’s not Paw Patrol, I don’t care,” she remarks, drawing a groan from Ruya.

“I still do not like that he knows this,” the brown woman shakes her head.

“Yeah, ditto,” Lise sighs. It had been Kelly’s fault. She’d put an episode on on her iPad, to keep Joel entertained, and then he’d wanted to watch another, and then another, and it just, escalated. Lise thinks that by now, she’s seen every episode at least twice, if not three times. And Joel got Fatin hooked on it, as well, something Ruya has definitely not been amused by. Lise knows that Fatin isn’t allowed much TV, so she doesn’t let the kids watch things when she’s watching them, but she can’t prevent Joel from talking about it to Fatin. Apparently, the boy went on and on and on about it so much that Hanif eventually caved and let him watch some, in the hopes he’d find it boring and not care for it. He’d been sorely mistaken there.

“What is it about that show, that makes them so obsessed with it?” she frowns before taking another sip of her tea.

“No idea,” Ruya shakes her head, grabbing the remote to check what is on TV. “Though I guess Paw Patrol is better than the girl with the monkey,” she adds with a grim expression.

Lise lets out a low chuckle at that. For some reason, Ruya really dislikes Dora, though she has to admit, she’s not the biggest fan, either.

“Thank you, by the way,” she says as Ruya settles on what looks surprisingly like a nature documentary. “I really needed a distraction,” she adds at the other woman’s confused look.

“Don’t thank me,” she shakes her head, reaching up to adjust her hijab a little. “We are friends. I am here, if you want talk.”

Lise looks down into the mug, tracing her index finger around the rim slowly.

“I just… I miss her,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “And at the same time, I’m so angry, as well. I was still so upset, with her, when she died, and now it feels like I can’t be that any more. Like I have to forgive her. But I have all these feelings and it’s just…” she trails off with a shuddering breath.

Ruya let out a low hum, tilting her head a little. “I don’t think we have to forgive people who are dead,” she declares, sounding rather convinced.

“No?” Lise inquires, watching the other woman. “What about, not speaking ill of the dead?” she offers and hears, to her surprise, Ruya let out a snort.

“I think that is what we should not do to their family,” she says, giving and decisive nod. “That doesn’t mean we have to forget how they have hurt us, or others,” she continues, making Lise swallow at the words.

“I’m sorry,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. It feels, insensitive, in a way. Ruya lost so many people in her life. She didn’t mean to make her feel bad, or relive any of that stuff. She cannot imagine what it must have been like, to leave everything behind and flee the country you were born in, to have a chance at survival. To make sure her unborn child would be save.

“No need,” Ruya shakes her head, bumping Lise’s shoulder with her own. “Conflicting feelings, can be hard. I’m here, I’ll listen,” she tells her, before her lips tug into a soft smile. “Also, I feel like I should say, thank you. Because Hanif and John are watching the children. Do you know how long it has been, since I only heard myself think in this house?” she chuckles, making Lise let out a soft laugh, as well. Fatin attends daycare some days, but his little sister doesn’t, and she can be a real whirlwind, even giving Joel a run for his money.

“I appreciate the chance for a breather,” Lise agrees, leaning over to rest her head on Ruya’s shoulder. She feels the woman shift, her arm wrapping around Lise in a gentle hug. She’s just, absolutely exhausted. Emotionally drained of all her energy, her batteries completely depleted.

She didn’t think it would be this hard, to deal with her mother passing away. That it wouldn’t hit her as hard, as intensely. She was wrong, apparently, and she is extremely grateful for the help she has. For the people that are helping her get through the worst of it.

* * *

She gets out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. Draws a deep breath as she starts down the street, to where the police cruiser is parked. When he sees her approach, Fox gets out of the car, meeting her halfway.

“Hey,” he greets her and Lise pauses, putting her hands into her coat pockets. Looks over to the car, the left door in the back open. She can see the feet sticking out, the person sitting awkwardly, their legs still out, feet on the pavement.

“He’s really drunk,” Fox remarks with a glance back, before he holds out the ID. Lise sighs and takes it, looking down at her father’s picture briefly.

“I appreciate the call,” she tells the younger man.

“No problem,” he shakes his head. “He was wandering and people were getting a bit worried…” he trails off. “I can’t really arrest him, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Yet,” Lise mutters darkly under her breath.

“Oh, right,” Fox nods, digging into his pockets to procure a set of car keys. “He didn’t really seem to know where he parked it, though. I could check the bars, see if someone recognizes him-”

“He’ll remember in the morning,” Lise shakes her head. He usually does, at least. Either that, or his usual bar calls him to let him know the car is still in their lot.

She wants to tell Fox this won’t happen again, but she’s about to make the same mistake yet again. She only said that to Brewers the other day, and here she is, picking up her more than just a little drunk father yet again.

At first she thought it was an after effect of the funeral. He’d gone on quite the bender that night, enough to land him in the hospital when the bartender called an ambulance when her father could no longer stand. She’d thought he’d just needed to drown his sorrow, that it was a one time thing. But it’s happened again since then, and with this being the fourth time she’s picking him up in three weeks, she’s starting to think that this is more than that.

Her father always drank. Always had some beer, or hard liquor, after work, as far back as she can remember. There is a chance that, since she moved out, things got a lot worse, and her mother was covering for him. Helped clean him up and make him presentable. Or it is her death that has suddenly started this unhealthy habit of his. Lise isn’t sure, and they haven’t been in contact all that much, but she’s pretty certain her father hasn’t really spent a day sober, since her mother passed.

Not that she really blames him. She thinks that, if something were to happen to John, she would be sorely tempted to drink herself into a stupor, as well. The only thing that would stop her from doing so, would be Joel. Would be knowing that her son needed her. And Lise’s father, he doesn’t really have any such obligations preventing him from trying to drink himself out of his misery, right into oblivion.

With a shake of her head, she starts towards the police car, to check what state he is in, today. Where on the spectrum of drunk (and possibly disorderly) he will fall. Last time was pretty bad, he hadn’t even recognized her for a while, before it had dawned on him when she’d known where the hidden key to the house was.

He’s sitting in the back of the police car, leaning forward and tilting to the side, bracing himself against the back of the seat a little. Pretty drunk, then, but he looks like he hasn’t thrown up, at least not yet. Thank God for small mercies, she thinks briefly.

Lise draws a deep breath and crouches down in front of him. Her father jerks and frowns at her, blinking his eyes as he tries to focus. Probably seeing double. Great.

“Viens, papa,” she mutters, patting his knee. “Sortons ici, d’accord?”

She stands, offering her hands to him. He shuffles his feet, moving deliberately, arranging himself before he takes her hands and Lise pulls him to his feet, steadying him quickly as he staggers.

“Okay,” she mutters under her breath, thankful when Fox steps up and helps her keep her father upright. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the officer replies, helping her get him to her car and settled in the back seat, a bag in his hands.

“Do not throw up on the seats, please,” Lise sighs as she clicks the seat belt into place. “Ey, papa,” she shakes her head, slapping his cheek lightly when it seems like he has dozed off. He jerks, looking around in surprise, before squinting at her, making her roll her eyes.

“Pas de vomir, tu me comprends?”

He mumbles something she can’t quite make out, before sliding down into his coat and closing his eyes again. Lise shakes her head and straightens, closing the door as she steps away.

“Marvelous,” she mutters under her breath before she climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, trying to think of a way of explaining this, to John.

* * *

“Hey! Delorme!”

She pauses in her steps, barely catching the door to the precinct with her hand, before it can swing back and hit Kular in the face.

“What?” she asks, closing her eyes immediately after. “Sorry,” she adds, a little softer. She hadn’t meant to snap. It just, it was a rough night. Rough couple of days. Her nerves are raw and frayed and her temper not the best.

“I was wondering, can I come with?” the taller man asks, holding his coat in his hands already. He’s almost vibrating with giddy excitement, reminding her very oddly of a young puppy. Lise shakes her head vehemently at the picture.

“It’s just a follow-up,” she tells him, brows dipping into a soft frown. It’s a routine visit, she just wants to clarify some points, go over the statement again with the victim, get another look at the scene. Nothing that needs a second person on the case.

“I know,” the man nods, shifting to make room for a uniformed officer to pass. “But I’d like to come,” he still insists.

She bites back the question if he doesn’t have anything better to do. He doesn’t. Not really. He’s new, after all. Only been here for a week. Technically, Dyson put him on a string of minor thefts that everyone already knows is going to lead nowhere. Lise knows how annoying menial stuff like that can be, especially when you’re holed up at the precinct the whole time. He only went out once yesterday, with Larren, and that was to grab coffee for all of them.

“Alright,” she agrees, jerking her head and watches as Kular nearly skips in joy and excitement. Puts his jacket on and steps outside, rubbing his hands with glee. Now she gets what Larren meant, when she said he reminds her of an overexcited squirrel. Lise shakes her head and holds out the keys to the unmarked she checked out for this.

“Task number one, find the car,” she teases as he takes the keys. Kular pauses, frowning.

“You didn’t get the plate number?” he asks, sounding both confused and kind of annoyed. She gives him her best impression of an innocent expression. And lasts all of two seconds, before she lets out a soft laugh.

“I did,” she allows and gestures towards the car in question. Lets him unlock and get into the driver’s seat as she takes the passenger. Larren let him drive back to the precinct yesterday, said he was a decent driver. Else Lise would have insisted on doing it herself. She doesn’t have a death wish and her level of trust in new people, even colleagues, isn’t usually as high. But since this is not her car, and given Larren’s assessment, she figures they’ll be fine if he drives.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Kular asks as he starts the engine and pulls out of the lot.

“Head for the Marina, I’ll give you directions from there,” Lise tells him, watching him drive, deciding to see how good he is, finding his way around town. Far as she knows, he’s only just moved here. This could get interesting, though the Marina is kind of easy to find, if you know which direction you are heading.

Kular lets out a soft sound of acknowledgment, changing lanes.

“What made you transfer here?” she asks him after a few moments of silence. Hears the man make a noncomittal sound.

“There was an opening,” he says and Lise has to consciously keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“Yes,” she nods. “I am aware. But this is Algonquin Bay. People don’t usually line up to work here,” she reminds him.

Which would be why it took Dyson as long as it did, to replace John. That, and the assumption that, perhaps the CIS had enough people on it. After all, when Lise got pregnant and benched, Larren joined them, so technically, they had one too many, on their team, before John retired. Only that it became glaringly obvious just how much small stuff was piling up, after he quit, swamping them to the point where their turn around times were no longer acceptable. That, coupled with McLeod and Szelagy both having court dates that blocked entire weeks and meant they were unable to work active cases finally made Dyson look for someone new to join their force. And even then, it took two months, to find a suitable candidate that was actually willing to move here.

“I figured it would be kind of nice,” Kular responds now with an odd bop of his head. “I liked it here, as a kid. Came here a couple of times, for ice fishing.”

“Ah,” Delorme nods, looking out the window. He’s gone in a wide circle. They could have shaved ten minutes off, with a more direct route, but she’s not in any hurry. To be honest, she needed to get out of the precinct. The din was making it hard to concentrate, the level of background noise just grating on her nerves and tanking her mood further.

“How did you end up here?” Kular asks, turning the question to her.

“I was born here,” Lise tells him. “Grew up here. I did go to university somewhere else, but to my surprise, I actually found myself homesick, so I came back,” she adds, wondering why she is telling him all this.

“I never worked in my home town,” Kular shakes his head, taking another left. “Even so, I did end up arresting a couple people I knew. That was, awkward.”

“It is,” Lise agrees, remembering the number of times she put handcuffs on former classmates and acquaintances. In one case, even an ex-boyfriend. That had been mighty awkward, and she’d found herself flushing as she did it.

“Alright, Detective, where to?” her colleague declares as the Marina comes into sight, and she finds herself sitting up a little more, steering her thoughts back to the present.

“Take a left on the next corner,” she directs him, her lips quirking into a soft smile when he gives a two-fingered salute.

* * *

There’s sweat trickling down her back as Lise tries to catch her breath and collapses into John. Feels her lips tug into a big grin and lets out a breathless chuckle as she feels him run a hand down her back, his own chest heaving as he, too, tries to catch his breath.

John shifts and brushes back her hair. Kisses her forehead, his chest moving with a chuckle.

“I love you,” he murmurs and Lise feels herself melting even more against him. Tugs her face into his armpit, for a moment, before she moves again, to settle against his side.

“Je t’aime,” Lise whispers as she strokes his cheek. Meets his eyes and leans up for a short, sweet kiss.

“Hm,” John hums against her lips and she feels him run his hand down her naked side. She sighs at the contact, her eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“You okay?” he asks her, tracing his fingertips over her collarbone.

“Hm,” she replies. “Yes. Just, wiped out,” she admits, letting a laugh escape her. One that grows even louder when John grabs her by the hips and flips them over, so that he’s hovering above her.

“Out of shape, Detective?” he teases and she shakes her head, sobering.

“Never,” she murmurs and reaches up to cradle his face. Searches his eyes and sees him grow serious, as well. She wraps her legs around his hips as he settles against her and lifts her head to kiss him again.

She hasn’t felt this whole in, weeks. Since her mother passed and her father went into a downward spiral that basically ended with her shipping him off to rehab. He hadn’t spoken to her for five weeks, following that episode of drunken stupor he spent in their guest bedroom, the night before she packed him in the car and drove him to the rehab facility.

Truth be told, she hadn’t been surprised. Her father is a proud man who won’t admit to any faults or mistakes on his part. Her dropping him into the hands of a dozen of shrinks all specialized in dealing with alcoholism and other addictions, that probably didn’t help his general attitude towards her and her life choices.

They are starting to talk again, now. He called earlier, for the first time. Told her he’s halfway through the program now. He sounded pretty decent, for someone who’d only been slurring his words the last couple of times they interacted with each other. It good, that he’s making progress, and getting help. She’s grateful for that.

And she’s incredibly grateful for John, as well. Having him at her side through this, it’s been such a blessing and relief. He didn’t push her or tried to make her talk. He was simply there and held her when she needed to cry and gave her space when she wanted to rage and shout and yell in anger and frustration.

Plus, he let her father stay the night when Lise asked him to. She would have understood, if he’d said no and wanted him gone instead. They do have a little child, after all, and the last thing she’d wanted for Joel had been to see his grandfather drunk out of his mind. But John had told her it was alright if she wanted to keep an eye on him. Make sure he didn’t choke in his drunken sleep. He actually helped with getting her father a spot on the treatment program this fast. Some contacts, from back when Catherine had been alive and struggling and needing help. Not that she’d ever had an substance abuse issue, but two of the doctors working at the inpatient rehab center used to work at the hospital John took her to. They talked a handful of times, about cases, as well, and he’d remembered their names and given them a call, asking for help. And Lise is more than grateful for it.

John tilts his head at her, nudging her nose with his, and Lise lets out a deep sigh.

“Ça me surprend toujours combien je t'aime, tu sais?” she whispers as she strokes the pads of her thumbs over his cheeks. “T’es tout pour moi. Toi, et Joel, vous êtes mon monde.”

John’s brows dip as he tries to work out, what she’s saying, and Lise feels a big lump rise into her throat.

“Épouse-moi, John,” she breathes, tears gathering in her eyes. “Marry me,” she adds, at his confused expression.

Watches, as John’s eyes widen in surprise at her words.

They never talked, about getting married. Not really. And she, she thought, she didn’t really want to get married, again. Doesn’t need it, to know how much she loves John. Doesn’t need it to believe that he loves her, wholeheartedly, as well.

“You sure?” he whispers. Shifts his weight to one arm, to brush her hair back from her face again, before he strokes her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, and tries to figure out her feelings. Tries to think if she really, really wants this, or if it was just a, heat-of-the-moment sort of thing. She never thought those words, before. At least not in a way she can remember. Their relationship, their lives, right now, they’re set up with the full intention of them staying together. With the knowledge that they want this to last, forever, if possible. With every intention, on her part at least, to be with John for the rest of her life.

But so much has changed, in the past three months. Her whole life feels like it’s been turned on its head, and if she’s learned anything from it, it’s that there are no guarantees. She thought her parents would be around forever, that she’d have plenty of time, to try and patch things up between them again. She was sorely mistaken. And when it comes to her relationship with John, she doesn’t want to take things for granted any longer. She wants to make this permanent, on paper, as well. Wants to let him and the rest of the world know that this, this is it, for her. She loves him, she wants to be with him for the rest of her life, a thought that, in other relationships, had made her feel trapped but with John brings her immense joy and relief. The rest of her life with him, it sounds wonderful.

Lise swallows thickly before nodding.

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m sure. I’m, asking. Asking you, to marry me,” she whispers, her heart racing in her chest again, this time not from physical exertion, but from nerves.

John leans down to kiss her. Brushes his lips over hers in a careful caress, before he deepens the kiss. Lise sighs into his mouth and pulls him closer, kisses back as his hips move against hers. She lets out a soft moan, her hips rolling into the contact.

“Yes,” John murmurs, nudging her nose with his. “Let's do this. Let's get married,” he nods as he leans back slightly, to meet her gaze. Lise smiles at him and nods mutely before pulling him into another kiss, her heart racing in her chest, ready to burst with relief and happiness.

* * *

Szelagy is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, humming under his breath. Some song that was on the radio earlier. Apparently it got stuck in his head, or he likes it. She’s not about to ask him, and it’s not bad enough that she wants him to stop. Actually, it helps keep her awake and on task, if she’d being honest.

Lise relaxes a little, resting her head back against the passenger seat. They switched the radio off because he didn’t want to know any reports, about the hockey game. Plans on watching it once he’s back home, apparently programmed his TV to record it. Men and their hockey, Lise shakes her head. She sometimes enjoys watching a game, but it’s not necessarily one of her hobbies. John will usually watch them, but he’s not obsessed with it. Not to the degree Szelagy is, apparently.

“Five bucks says the next car passing us will be silver,” her partner offers, and Lise casts a glance at him, before shaking her head.

“No,” she answers, deciding not to take the bet. He’d probably win, silver seems to be most prominent color right now, and she’s not into betting anyway. Five dollars. She could get a nice hot chocolate for Joel for that. Seeing her kid smile, that seem more worth it than giving Szelagy money for no reason.

“Killjoy,” the man sighs and she lets out a bark of laughter.

“For refusing to hand to free money?” she shakes her head, grabbing the binoculars in her lap and training them onto the house again. The lights are out and as far as she can see, there is no movement inside. Good. There shouldn’t be.

She hates stakeouts. Hates having to do stuff like this, especially so late at night. It’s after midnight, she should be in bed, curled up in John’s arms. Should be sleeping soundly, or at least on her way to do so.

The thought causes a soft sigh to escape her. Szelagy mirrors her actions and reaches up to rub his hand over the back of his head.

“You guys set a date yet?” he asks. Lise looks over in confusion, before she remembers, the unfamiliar sensation of the ring around her finger reminding her that, while they haven’t made a big announcement, people can still tell she got engaged.

John wanted to get her a ring almost as soon as he said yes. She’s teased him a bit, saying that maybe she should be the one getting him a ring, since she was the one who asked. She was tempted to do it, really, but hadn’t found anything that seemed like he’d wear it more than once, to humor her. He’s not the type of guy who wears jewelry, and it probably would have been a waste of money.

“Not yet,” she shakes her head slowly. “We’re thinking of late summer, though,” she adds with a tilt of her head. John and Catherine got married in the spring, and Lise doesn’t want to go anywhere near the significant dates of their relationship. Wants to respect what they had and shared and not try to, take it over, so to speak, with memories of her own relationship with John. His marriage to his late wife was important to him and a big part of his life, before they started seeing each other. She knows he still misses her, sometimes, though the sharp ache of her absence has dulled over the years.

“Huh,” Szelagy sighs, rolling his head a little. “You still do boxing?” he suddenly asks and Lise lets out a soft laugh at the sudden change in topic.

“Kind of,” she nods. She doesn’t go as often as she used to, and these days she mostly goes up against punching bags. Actually, she kind of misses it, coming to think of it. Perhaps she should make more time for it, but then again, there are only so many hours in the day, and between work, and Joel, and her relationship with John, there’s not much time left. And the time she does have, she finds she often ends up using to rest, these days.

“Why?”

“I was thinking of maybe picking it up,” the man says. “But I can’t really seem to find a place I like.”

“Ah,” she nods, familiar with that issue. Though she thinks that it is definitely harder, for women, to find a gym or boxing ring that they feel save at and where they will be respected. She thinks the fact that she is a cop had a lot to do with her not running into that much issues when she first picked it up. It certainly dissuaded the regulars from any harassment they might have gotten up to, at least. There were the odd guys that didn’t know and felt like they could try it with her, but they quickly learned their lessons, as well.

“Where do you go?” Szelagy asks, checking the street with his binoculars briefly, before putting them back down.

“There’s a place near the old Marina. It’s a bit run down, doesn’t have the latest equipment, but that means it doesn’t get a lot of traffic,” she answers. Contemplates him, for a moment. “If you want to, we can go together, some day,” she offers. “I can show you around, explain stuff…” she trails off.

“Hm,” the guy hums in thought. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” he finally nods. “Unless Cardinal wouldn’t like that.”

“If he doesn’t, tough luck,” Lise shakes her head with a smile. She doesn’t let John dictate who she gets to spend her time with and where. Szelagy is a decent guy, one whose loyalty she very much appreciates. She still remembers the time years ago, when he decked McLeod for his continued comments about her lapse in judgment regarding Whyland. Back then, she’d felt so lonely and lost and like no one was on her side. Szelagy had been the only one, besides Cardinal, who hadn’t seemed to care. Who’d backed her up and gone out on assignments with her. As far as Lise knows, he never tried to get out of one, and that helped, a lot. It made her feel like she wasn’t as alone, as irredeemable, as it had seemed.

Plus, as far as she remembers, John liked him, as well. Thought he was a decent cop, a good colleague, and trusted him when he was still with CIS.

“Fair warning though,” Lise adds, “I don’t compete and I rarely practice with others. If you want to beat someone up, or get your ass beaten, you’ll have to find someone else to do that.”

At her words, Szelagy let out a low chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ll probably stick with the bags and weights, for a bit, before I decide to get my ass handed to me,” he nods, suddenly sitting up a little straighter in the driver’s seat.

“I see it,” Lise murmurs, eyes on the guy slowly walking down the street. She reaches for the radio to let the other car with Larren and Fox know. Holds her breath, for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest as the guy approaches the house.

“Come on, come on,” Szelagy murmurs next to her, hand already on the door handle to get out quickly as the guy stops in front of the house. Lise sees the flash of a lighter, and once he’s got his cigarette lit, the guy continues down the street.

Szelagy and her slump back in their seats, twin groans of disappointment leaving them.

“I hate stakeouts,” the man declares with feeling as Lise tells Fox it wasn’t their guy and the waiting continues.

* * *

“Careful, buddy,” John warns as Joel reaches for the cat. Moose lifts her paw, watching him intently, still in full 'play'-mode.

“Moo,” Joel laughs and manages to avoid the claws before he wraps his arms around the cat. And Lise has to stifle a laugh at the way the cat blinks in surprise, before she lets out a strangled 'mreow' and goes slack, leaving Joel to stand there, trying to hold the cat.

“Ah, merde,” she mutters and jumps up, to catch Moose and prevent her from getting chocked.

“You gotta let her go, when she does that, bud,” John chuckles. “You're gonna end up hurting her, if you don't.”

“Bu' I wanna cuddle,” Joel protests as Lise holds Moose in her arms. Loosens her hold enough to allow the cat to escape, if she wants to.

The Somali Brown decides that being in Lise's arms is preferable to being chased around by the Tiny Servant. Oh, yes, she's been trying to manipulate Joel into doing her bidding, lately. Meowing at him when he eats snacks so he'll give her some of his food. Yowling to get him to share a toy with her. Getting him to open doors for her that Lise or John closed with the express purpose of keeping the cat out of a room (or in a room, for that matter). At least so far, he hasn't done that with the front door. Though not for lack of trying. They're just immensely diligent about locking the door, John and her. Always have been, since Joel started walking and using doorknobs to pull himself up with. He faceplanted a few times because doors opened as he was leaning against them, too.

“You can cuddle with me,” John offers, causing Joel to let out a long suffering sigh. “Geez, thanks,” the boy's father laughs and pulls him over to blow a raspberry on his cheek.

Joel pulls up his shoulders as he shrieks with laughter and tries to tickle John, who retaliates, the two ending up on the floor, wiggling around as they laugh and try to tickle each other.

“Yeah, I think they're idiots, too,” Lise murmurs as she hides her face in Moose's fur, the cat watching the two humans on the floor with an expression of both disgust and concern. “Very lovable idiots, though,” she adds as she puts Moose on the couch and goes to join her fiance and son on the floor.

“Maman, Maman!” Joel exclaims and tries to hide behind her, shrieking when John grabs his ankle and tickles his foot. “Non! Non, stop!”

Immediately, John freezes and pulls back. Breaks contact and leans back, giving the boy space. Joel lays on his back, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, a big grin on his face.

“T'es okay?” Lise asks him softly, touching his cheek.

“Hm?” Joel frowns, sitting up. “Papa,” he mutters and moves over, wrapping his arms around his father.

“Hey there,” John whispers and kisses the crown of his head as he gently lifts the boy into his lap. Holds Joel close, for a moment, before leaning back. “Daddy's sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“Non,” Joel shakes his head. “I don' like foot tickles,” he frowns at his feet, wiggling his toes in his socks.

“Ah,” John murmurs. “No more foot tickles, then,” he nods. “You feel okay, in my lap, now?”

“Uh-huh,” their son nods, starting to smile again, and Lise takes it as her cue to move in. She scoots closer and lays down on the floor, resting her head on John's thigh while offering a hand to Joel to hold. To her surprise, her son pulls on it, tugs her arm up and places her hand on his head. It takes her a second to realize he wants her to run her fingers through his hair and once she does, Joel gives a shudder and relaxes against John, a happy sigh leaving him.

“Why don't you get up, for a sec, huh,” John suggests. Gently moves Joel out of his lap, shushing him as he lays down and then pulls the boy against him again. The movement kind of turns the three of them into a big heap of limbs, Joel half on top of John, and Lise bent so she is facing both of them.

She feels John's hand on the small of her back before he slips it beneath her shirt, the contact making her let out a content sigh. She allows her eyes to close, for a moment, his fingers warm against her skin.

She loves this. Loves these moments and appreciates them so much. The times when they are a family, when it’s just John and Joey and her, the three of them, together like this. She has to make more time for moments like this, she thinks. Has been, actually, but it feels like it’s not enough. Though perhaps it never will feel like it is enough.

She still has to find a dress, too. Yes, yes, they are cutting it awfully close. She's well aware of that. Knows that she'll probably end up having to pay a hefty price, for last minute alterations, once she does end up finding something. But so far, everything has just been kind of, meh. Perhaps she’s approaching this with the wrong mindset. Looking for a dress to wow her, that might be the wrong idea. Plus, it’s not like she was in love with the one she wore when she got married the first time around. She’d liked it and it had fit well, but beyond that, it had been a dress. Surely, she can find something she’ll feel comfortable in that she doesn’t hate.

It's strange, how, the closer they get, to the actual date, the calmer she grows. With the wedding preparations with Josh, she'd grown more nervous by the day, it had seemed. Obsessed over details and the schedule and everything being perfect. And now here she is, merely tilting her head at the fact that she doesn't have a dress yet.

And they need to figure out what they are going to do, with regards to her father. It looks like he will be finished, with the program, by the time they get married, but there is always the chance of setbacks and relapses and stuff like that. Plus, perhaps inviting him to an event where alcohol will be served copiously isn’t the smartest idea.

But at the same time, he’s her father, and she wants him there. This is the last time she plans on getting married, and even if he’s not a fan of John and they disagree on some fundamental issues when it comes to child rearing, she still wants him there. The thought of him missing this, it stings.

Lise gives a slight shake of her head, to clear those thoughts away. She's cuddling with John and Joel, right now. She can think about what she wants to do in regards to her father later.

* * *

She watches Kelly shift on the couch, placing the picture back onto the coffee table that’s already littered with countless others. Most of them have Catherine Cardinal in them, seeing as Lise had wanted to know, what the wedding had looked like. John and Catherine’s wedding, that was.

“I, get, that this is difficult, for you,” Lise murmurs. She hears Kelly let out a soft sigh.

“I don't want it to be,” the younger woman answers, after a pause.

She really was a beautiful woman, Lise thinks as she picks up one of the pictures of Catherine in her wedding dress. She's practically glowing as she's talking to someone else, face lit up in happiness.

“I know Dad loves you. I know you love him. I want you guys to be happy,” Kelly adds, her brows dipping into a small frown.

“I know,” Lise nods and leans over to wrap an arm around Kelly's shoulder. Hesitates, before she brushes her lips over her temple in a gentle caress.

Kelly tenses briefly, before she relaxes into her. Touches Lise's hand, on her shoulder, and gives it a soft squeeze.

They aren’t usually that affectionate, with each other. Lise tries to respect Kelly’s boundaries, plus she is well aware of the weird age difference, between the two of them. Fifteen years is too little for her to feel like a mother to Kelly, yet it seems like too big a gap for them to develop a kind of sisterly bond. Then again, the gap between Kelly and Joel is even bigger than that, and the two of them are siblings. Perhaps this is all just Lise overthinking things again. She knows she does that, at times.

“It just, it makes me miss her,” Kelly admits. Worries at her lower lip for a moment. “I really, really miss her,” she whispers.

“I'm sorry,” Lise murmurs, not knowing what else to say. She'd figured that it might stir up some emotions, for Kelly. Her and John getting married. And she is sorry that it is causing her pain. She wants her to be happy. Wants her to be okay, with John marrying her.

Which Kelly assures her she is. John said the same thing, too. The two of them, they've been talking a lot, the past few weeks. There have been lots of visits, by Kelly, to their basement, too, where John and her spoke and worked on some pieces. Lise hadn't wanted to intrude, so she's not entirely sure what they have been talking about. She just hopes that they're both okay.

It would be alright, if John changed his mind, she thinks. She'd understand. She knows, how important Catherine was, to him. How much he loved her. How much they went through, together. Knows that losing her, it still pains him.

That doesn't mean he doesn't love her. Just that he loved Catherine, too, and Lise doesn't feel at all jealous. Only sad, for both of them. That it ended this way. That they didn't get their own, happily ever after, so to speak. That she was ripped from the world in this fashion.

“Please let me change your mind on a veil,” Kelly suddenly says and Lise lets out a soft laugh.

“No veil,” she shakes her head. “No white dress, either,” she adds, crinkling her nose a little.

Kelly had been upset about that, which seemed funny, to Lise. She knows very well that she's no virgin, Joel is the living proof of that. Plus, she's divorced. Wearing pure white, that would have sat, very wrong, with her. Her first dress was white, actually, and the thought of repeating that, it made her mind balk.

Though Kelly had seemed alright with the off-white color she ended up going with. The veil thing, though, that she hasn’t given up on yet. It strikes her as a strange thing to be upset about, especially given Kelly’s age. Veils, they seem like such an old, almost outdated fashion, to Lise.

“Why?”

“Because...” Lise shrugs. “Because John knows what I look like, and I don't like the feeling of anything on my face,” she frowns. “I didn't have one, the first time around, either,” she tells Kelly.

“Ah,” the younger woman says, “all the more reason to change it the second time around. Also, Amber's mom wanted to know, do you need extra fabric, of the bridesmaids dresses?”

“What?” Lise laughs at the strange question, the weird change in topic. She’d been reluctant to get the bridesmaid dresses from the shop the mother of Kelly’s ex-girlfriend runs. But apparently, Kelly and Amber kind of get along, as tentative friends, and really, Amber’s mother has been amazing in all this. They might not have been able to pull this off in so short an amount of time, if she hadn’t been willing to work as hard, and Lise is immensely grateful for that.

“You know, for Ruya. In case she wants to match her hijab to the dress.”

Lise suddenly blinks at Kelly, surprised by the thoughtfulness of the younger woman. Or the thoughtfulness of her former partner's mother?

“That's, actually a good question,” she admits. “I'll ask her. She doesn't usually do that, but maybe she'd like to,” she tilts her head.

She asked Ruya, to be her 'Maid of Honor'. She'd seemed surprised and touched and kind of reluctant, given that she's never been to a Christian wedding, before. Lise had told her not to worry about that, that the others would help her with all the details. She honestly hadn't wanted anyone else right by her side, really. Ruya's friendship, it means a lot, to Lise, and she'd wanted her to know that.

“I know I'm not allowed to, spoil the surprise,” Kelly starts, “but Joel looks really cute, in his suit.”

“Stop it,” Lise glares at her. It's her deal, with John. He doesn't see the dress before the wedding, and she doesn't get to know what his suit and Joel's look like. She knows they are coordinating, and he has been teasing her a little, about her curiosity. And now his daughter seems to have taken a leaf from his book, and is doing the same thing to her. It's not fair, Lise thinks.

“Sorry,” Kelly giggles, before sobering. “I hope you know that, I'm happy, for you guys,” she adds, meeting Lise’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Lise murmurs. “It, means a lot, to hear you say that.”

It does. While she does think that Kelly is fine, with John and her being together, it carries a lot of meaning to hear her say that. Especially given how difficult that had been, at first. How awkward they’d been, around each other. She knows it was hard, for Kelly, to see her father with someone else when she was still very much grieving her mother’s death. That it had been extremely difficult for her, to balance missing her mother and kind of liking Lise, as well. That she’d felt torn a lot, felt that if she was being nice and welcoming to Lise, that she was somehow betraying the memory of her mother. It took a while, for that to settle, for her to work through it.

“I mean it, too,” Kelly nods. “I know I haven't always been, nice, to you. But for what it's worth, I think you're good, for Daddy. He really loves you. I just think, sometimes I get, angry? Jealous. That, what we had, as a family, it wasn't as, happy.”

Lise frowns and leans back, searching Kelly's face.

“I know your mother and I weren't close, and I only knew her for a short time. But everything John ever told me, about being married to her, about life with Catherine, and you, he always sounded happy.”

“Right,” the younger woman snorts as she crosses her arms. “He must have been especially happy, when he had to lock her up in the looney bin.”

“Kelly,” Lise warns, allowing a sigh to escape her. “Look, when John told me, about Catherine being bipolar, he never sounded... He never made it sound like it was a, burden,” she tries to explain. “And I don't want you to think that he felt that way, because it's not true. It was a part of your mother, the same as her love for photography, and weirdly niche eighties pop songs,” she adds.

She doesn’t want the younger woman to think that what John and her have that it is in any way better or superior to what he shared with Kelly’s mother. It’s not true. John loved Catherine to bits, he adored her. He would have done anything for her. He very much did, once, to protect her from the consequences of her actions fueled by her mental illness.

Kelly draws a slow breath as she worries at her thumbnail, Lise gently bumping her shoulder to draw her attention to what she's doing. The younger woman frowns and gives a sharp shake of her head before she lowers her hand.

“And if it helps any, our relationship isn't always as, happy, as harmonious. We do fight, you know,” Lise tilts her head. Remembers a time a little over a year ago, when she was constantly blowing up at John and he was yelling right back at her. They have come a long way, since those days, though they do still have their arguments. “

The only reason you don't know we are, is because you don't live with us. Trust me, there have been some, very ugly moments.”

“None of which ended with you in a straight jacket, though,” Kelly remarks darkly.

“Ey,” Lise murmurs. Draws a slow breath and swallows thickly.

“I know, I know,” the younger woman shakes her head. “We talked about it. He keeps saying it, too, how he's not any happier with you, than he was with Mom. It just, sometimes it doesn't feel true, you know?” she frowns. “Like, I haven't seen him laugh as much with her as he has, with you. And when they were goofing off, it was always... Fragile. Always with the concern that it could tip over into mania, for Mom.”

She draws a slow breath, not entirely sure what to say, how to reply to that. She doesn’t have that concern, for herself. Doesn’t have Catherine’s mental health struggles, though Lise will admit that there have been periods where she has felt, unbalanced. Especially after having Joel, there had been weeks when she’d felt, not like herself, for a lack of better word. Had been overly sad and weepy and emotional in general. It cleared up in enough of a timely fashion for her to avoid a PPD diagnosis and to not need medication, but it was an episode that, unsettled her.

Kelly doesn’t know about that, though. Lise isn’t entirely certain if John knows the full extent of it, either. She has been rather reluctant to share it with him. Out of a strange sense of worry that saying it out loud would make it more real, and perhaps she’d also wanted to not have him think he’d ended up with another mentally ill partner. Had wanted to protect him and not have him worry.

She hesitates, for a moment, before getting up. Lise goes over to the box they dug up from the basement earlier, with the picture albums of years and years ago. Grabs one and takes it back to the couch and folds up her leg beneath her as she opens it, and starts slowly flipping through it.

“Here,” she murmurs and indicates the pages of pictures. Catherine's birthday party. John getting promoted at work. Kelly's first day of school. Thanksgiving and Christmas. Some other family thing, one with John's parents.

And in almost every single picture, John is smiling. Even when he's not the focus, when it looks like a candid shot he hadn't even been aware of it being made, his lips are tugging upwards, and he seems genuinely happy.

Kelly blinks at the images and starts slowly turning the pages herself, taking in the images.

“I remember that,” she smiles at her younger self in front of a giant cake. “Mom had tried making a cake, for my birthday. It went all sorts of wrong. Like, the oven sort of, exploded, levels of wrong,” she giggles. “I was absolutely crushed. She took one look at me, grabbed me, and drove to this, fancy bakery. She told them she'd pay them triple if they gave her a cake for this afternoon.”

“Non,” Lise exclaims, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Kelly nods. “I don't know how much she paid, really. She made me swear that I wouldn't tell Dad what had happened. That it would be our secret. Only trouble it, she forgot to take off the cake topper before she put it in the fridge. It was a wedding cake, she was totally busted.”

The story makes Lise let out a laugh and she shakes her head in amusement, imagining John's reaction to his wife's attempt at convincing him that thing had actually been the result of her hard work, before realizing her mistake.

“I guess it wasn't all bad,” the younger woman allows, her eyes settling on a picture of her parents slow-dancing with each other. They look incredibly young, and incredibly happy.

“No, it wasn't,” Lise confirms, brushing a curl of hair from her face affectionately. “I want you to know that, when he looks back, on this,” she says, gesturing at the pictures, “he’s happy. They’re happy memories, most of them.”

Kelly draws a shuddering breath, her throat working as she nods slowly, eyes still glued to the image of her parents.

* * *

Four days. She’s four days late. Lise blames the wedding prep, for her not noticing it earlier. She knew the date was coming closer, but it had failed to register with her that she should have gotten her period already. Until it suddenly hit her last night, as she was going through a mental list of last-minute prep that still needs to be done.

She is lucky that she's already off work. That she took two weeks off, starting yesterday. Because she is getting a little nervous, now, as they are entering the final 72 hours.

She forgot to take her pill three times last month. Between the wedding preparation and a major case and Joel getting sick and her father getting out of rehab, her mind had been so busy she’d been practically on auto pilot for a few days. She only realized her lapse when she went to take her pill one morning and realized that the dates weren’t right.

There’d been the option of Plan B, and John and her discussed it. In the end, they’d decided not to use it. She’d felt that she didn’t want to flood her body with hormones. Had figured that the chances of her ending up pregnant had been slim to none, anyway, so what would have been the point? They’d be careful for the rest of the month, use condoms, and that would be it. After all, it had taken her almost a year, to get pregnant with Joel. And if it did happen… well, they did say that eventually, they would try for another baby, even if this would be earlier than expected. And really, what were the odds, of her ending up pregnant within one cycle?

Not as bad as they’d thought they were, apparently.

Lise tilts her head at the cat and watches as Moose mirrors the gesture. It makes her let out a soft laugh and the cat gives a chirp before jumping up onto the bathroom counter. Stretches, and bends down to sniff the pregnancy test.

“No,” she shakes her head and picks it up quickly. That's the last thing she needs, right now, for the cat to chomp down on the thing.

Moose sits back and watches her for a moment, before she goes to lick her paw daintily. Lise shakes her head at the cat and goes to check her watch, to see how long of a wait she has left, when she sees the result window out of the corner of her eye. And freezes.

“Oh my God,” the brunette breathes, staring at the two bright lines.

“Oh my God,” she repeats as she stands from her perch on the lid of the toilet. Holds the test between her hands, tilting it to make sure that it's not a, weird trick of the light, that she's not somehow imagining this.

Moose meows at her and tries to pat her with a paw. Lise slowly lowers the test to stare at the cat.

“I'm pregnant,” she breathes, her eyes filling with tears. She picks up the cat and hides her face is her lush fur, Moose letting out a surprised squeak before she goes slack, resigning herself to her fate as Lise hugs the pet close.

She can’t believe this. This is really actually happening. She's getting married in two days, is marrying John, while she's carrying his child.

She lets out a teary laugh and kisses Moose's head, the cat giving her a miserable look.

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes to her as she slowly sinks down onto the toilet lid again. Puts Moose in her lap, which makes the cat shake herself, before she turns around and settles down, nosing at Lise's hand.

“I know this is another little human that will pester you, but could you not be so, indifferent?” she sighs as she runs her hand through the cat's fur. Moose gives her a look, her tongue darting out as she licks her nose, and then lets out a big yawn.

“Brat,” Lise shakes her head and bends down to kiss the cat again.

She has to tell John, she thinks. He’ll probably be shocked. The two of them did figure that there wasn’t really a chance of this happening, so this will come totally out of left field, for him. He’ll probably be pretty surprised. And excited, she hopes.

But then she pauses, hesitates.

Does she really want to tell him, right now? Before the wedding? It would probably mean the others all finding out already, as well. She, doesn't want that, she realizes with some surprise. There's a chance of this still going wrong, somehow, and she doesn't want to have to deal with explaining it to all their friends and family if it does. It'll be bad enough if she has another miscarriage, without dealing with anyone else's reactions to it.

And maybe, just maybe, she wants to, surprise John with the news. With the wedding so close, they barely have a spare minute between them. She's not sure if she'll even manage to make an appointment with her gynecologist, to get it confirmed before they tie the knot, coming to think of it.

With a frown, she looks down at the test again, her heart hammering in her chest. This feels so surreal, she can’t quite wrap her head around this just yet. Pregnant. She’s pregnant. With how difficult it had been, to conceive Joel, this feels utterly surreal and too easy, somehow.

John found out about Joel by finding the test she forgot in Kelly's bathroom, back then. It had led to a pretty big argument between the two, and Lise still feels guilty about it. That they fought, of course, and also for the emotional roller coaster she'd sent John on. He went from thinking he was going to be a grandfather to thinking he was going to be a granddad and his daughter was lying to him to finding out that Kelly was telling the truth and he was going to be a dad, in the span of a little over an hour. If he were any older, Lise would've been concerned about giving him a heart attack.

“It's gotta be different, this time,” she mutters as she shakes her head. “What do you think, how should we tell him, huh?” she asks the cat, only to have Moose flop onto her back, rubbing herself all over Lise's lap, clamoring for affection and a thorough petting.

“You're not much of a help, you know,” she sighs, running her hand through the cat’s fur. And suddenly, has an idea. Hesitates for a second, before she gets out her phone and looks for the contact of their wedding photographer.

“Hey, Laure? C'est Lise,” she greets her when the younger woman answers the phone.

“Non, we haven't changed our minds,” she laughs when the photographer asks her if something has happened, surely they haven't changed their minds. “Not about getting married, nor hiring you,” she assures her, rubbing her thumb over the result window of the pregnancy test, her heart hammering in her chest, happiness slowly spreading through her body.

“Listen, I, need to tell you something. I need your help with something, but you have to promise you'll keep it a secret, from John, and everyone else. I want to, surprise him, with something,” she tells her. Hears Laure inhale deeply on the other end.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?” Laure's voice carries over the line and Lise exhales loudly before she starts to explain her plan.

* * *

Joel hides his face in her dress, making Lise shake her head at the boy before she bends down and picks him up. Holds him close and kisses his cheek.

“Ca va, mon ange?” she asks and the boy nods, hugging her neck.

“Sh’taime,” he mumbles against her clavicle, making Lise’s lips tug into a smile.

“Je t’aime, aussi,” she responds, rubbing her hand over his back. He’s getting tired, now. She can tell. It has been a really exciting day, and for a little boy who missed his naptime, he’s been hanging in there really well. But now he’s getting cuddly and seeking her out and Lise thinks it’s time to get the little munchkin to bed, before his mood tips over into cranky and upset. He probably won’t like leaving while the rest of their guests are still celebrating, but still.

“Alors, on va te coucher, mon ange,” she tells him, balancing him on her hip as she makes for John, to let him know she’ll take the little guy upstairs to their room and get him ready for bed.

In their room, she finds that Joel is actually too tired to really argue with her or throw a tantrum. He sits on the bed as she undresses him, rubbing his hand over his eyes tiredly.

“T’es vraiment fatigue, hein?” she mutters, pulling his PJs over his head. “Viens ici, mon petit,” she sighs as she stands, picking him up to carry him to the bathroom and help him brush his teeth. At that point, her son is nearly falling asleep in her arms, almost bursting into tears when she washes his face.

“Aww,” John chuckles when he steps into the room, seeing Joel on the counter, Lise propping him up. “Did you have a good time, buddy?” he asks as he picks him up, kissing the boy’s cheek loudly. Joel mumbles something unintelligible, eyes closing as he lets out a big yawn.

“Yeah, you’re so ready for sleep,” John mutters, hugging the boy for a moment before he carries him over to bed, getting him settled. Lise sits down at the foot of the bed, watching as John tucks their son in, the boy rubbing his monkey over his face before he lets out a shuddering breath. His breathing starts evening out and he’s out like a light in a matter of moments, making her blink in surprise. It’s been a while, since bedtime was that easy. He didn’t talk back once or try to wiggle more time out of them for a change.

“I’d say someone enjoyed the big day,” John murmurs as he gently brushes their son’s hair from his face, leaning in to kiss his forehead before he straightens. Holds out his hand for Lise to take. She does, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She leans up, touching her hands to his neck to pull him down a little so she can kiss him.

“I very much enjoyed today, as well,” she murmurs against his lips as she feels his hands settle on her hips. John gives a low hum before kissing her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth. It makes her press up more against him, wondering if they really have to go down again. It would probably be rude, if they just stayed upstairs and left their guests to their own devices.

She lets out a sigh, pulling back with some reluctance. Grabs the baby monitor and takes John’s hand. Pulls him with her from the room, making sure she takes the key card along.

John gives a tug on her hand, pulling her back against him.

“Bonsoir, Madame,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss that makes her smile against his lips.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur,” she replies as she reaches up to touch his cheek. As she leans back, she meets his eyes. “Je t’aime,” she tells him.

She’s kind of lost count, of how many times she has said it, today. It’s always been accompanied by a host of butterflies taking off in her belly, as well.

“I am so, so happy,” she murmurs, stroking his cheek. “I’m very glad we decided to do this.”

“Me, too,” John nods, his voice filled with emotion, eyes shining with moisture. She feels his thumbs move, feels them stroke over the material of her dress. He moves, lips brushing gently over her forehead in a soft kiss.

“Seeing you walk down that aisle…” he whispers and Lise closes her eyes as she wraps her arms around him. Hug him close and tilts her head back to kiss his jaw.

“It is strange,” she murmurs. “I know that, even before today, we said we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. I know how much you loved me, how much you do love me. I know it has not changed at all. But it feels different,” she admits with a small shake of her head. “It feels, more real.”

“It does,” John agrees, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe because we said it out loud, in front of others. I feel the same way. I know you don’t like it, when I say this, but knowing you’re mine, officially… It feels, good.”

Despite herself, Lise lets out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t like when my partners think I am their property and they are my owners, no,” she confirms.

“Not how I meant it,” John frowns, reaching back to take her hand and run his thumb over her wedding band. “I meant more like, having the tangible reminder that we are together. That you love me. I knew it, before, yes, but I think it’s just having this very real reminder that it is true, that you stand by that decision, that makes me feel so, happy, and maybe a bit relieved, as well.”

“I do,” Lise nods. “I chose you, John. Every day, since we have been together, I chose you,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss him again.

“And now we’ve both made the promise to keep doing that,” he replies, lips curving into a happy grin. Lise watches him toy around with her ring for another moment, before he takes her hand and entwines their fingers.

“I love you,” John tells her, meeting her eyes. “And I know I’ve said it today already, but I want you to know, how happy you make me. You and Joel, you’ve both brought so much happiness and joy into my life,” he says, pausing to clear his throat as Lise feels tears well up in her eyes.

“Sh,” she whispers, gently shushing him. “I know,” Lise nods, smiling up at him. “I feel the same way. Having you both in my life, it’s been, amazing. And yes, I know it’s been some work, and I know we still have things we have to keep working on, but it’s, with you. I know that, you and I, we’ll do this. We’ll do this together, you and I, we’ll make our relationship, our marriage, work.”

She draws a slow breath, trying to blink back her tears of emotion.

“Even when we are fighting, when we’re angry and upset with each other, I still feel like you, see me. You understand who I am, at my core,” Lise continued. “I don’t feel like I have to give up part of myself, to compromise my identity, to be with you. You take me as I am, and that’s… that means, a lot,” she shrugged, lower lip trembling.

“You mean a lot,” John replied, kissing her softly. “And I do love every part of you. Even the stubborn one that will kick my ass when I so very much deserve it,” he added with a small grin.

“Now come on,” he continued. John tilted his head, taking both her hands. “We should return to the others, at least for a bit. Say goodnight and give Kelly the key card and monitor, before we head for our own room.”

“Hm, I very much like the sound of that plan,” Lise agreed, thankful that John’s daughter had offered to watch Joel for the night, allowing them to spend their wedding night with only each other.

* * *

“I, have a surprise, for you,” Lise murmurs as she kisses the underside of John’s jaw. Hears him let out a content sigh as his arm wraps around her and he pulls her against him.

“Oh yeah?” he responds, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

“Hm,” she hums. Shifts and moves to straddle him. She cradles his face, meeting his eyes easily, her heart beating quickly in her chest. John’s hands settle on her hips as he watches her, for a moment, waiting.

“Am I supposed to guess?” he asks and Lise lets out a soft chuckle. Now, that would be kind of funny, she supposes, but something tells her he wouldn’t be able to guess. She hasn’t been dropping hints or anything, she doesn’t think, so it might just be a little too, out there, for him to actually guess.

“Non,” she shakes her head and kisses him before she gets up and grabs the envelope on the fireplace. “Laure sent a few pictures, as kind of, a quality control preview?” she tells him as she joins him again on the couch and hands him the envelope. John’s brows dip briefly before he goes to open the flap, taking out the pictures their wedding photographer sent.

It was kind of hard, to manage this. She’d been worried that someone might ruin the surprise. That Joel would slip up and tell John about getting his picture taken like this. Or that someone would walk by when Laure photographed the boy and would tell John about it. But as far as Lise knows, he’s still completely in the dark, which is a good thing. She wants to see his genuine reaction, to this.

She's incredibly thankful to Laure. For her being game, with this, for her taking the pictures in the first place and agreeing to keep everything to herself. And for working hard on the small batch of pictures so they'd be ready faster than the turn-around schedule she gave them initially. Four days after the wedding is remarkable, Lise knows that.

John and her slowly go over the pictures, tilting their heads and laughing at some choice snapshots. And the closer they get, to the final one, the more nervous Lise grows.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he doesn’t want this. Maybe this is reckless. Maybe they’re not ready for it. Maybe it’ll be a disaster-

John puts down the second-to-last image and pauses at the final one.

It’s Joel, grinning at the camera. He’s still wearing his little suit and bow-tie from the wedding ceremony, but he’s striking a ‘superman’ pose. His shirt is unbuttoned and he’s holding the sides open, exposing the shirt beneath it to the camera.

The shirt that reads _‘Big Brother In Training’_.

Lise watches as John frowns at the photograph in confusion. Watches his eyebrows lift as realization dawns on him. His jaw drops for a moment before he whips his head up to stare at her, mouth moving silently.

“Oui,” she breathes at the question shining in his eyes. Feels tears well up in her own and John drops the picture before wrapping her into a tight hug.

Lise lets out a teary laugh and wraps her arms around him. Holds onto him tightly as his shoulders shake and he starts trailing kisses all over her face.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks as he leans back, searching her face and Lise nods. Reaches up to wipe at the tears on his face.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I found out two days before the wedding,” she tells him with a soft laugh when he sits up and pulls her into his lap. Feels him hide his face against her neck, and she runs her hands through his hair, making soft shushing sounds to soothe him.

“You’re sure?” John murmurs when he has calmed down a little.

“Three tests said so,” she smiles at him. Brushes her lips over his in a soft kiss as she feels him beginning to relax. “I, had an ultrasound for confirmation, too,” she admits. “It’s real. Six weeks, four days real,” she whispers and feels his hold tighten on her even more.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks with a soft shake of his head, and Lise gives a slight shrug.

“I, wanted to be sure,” she allows. “And, more selfishly, I kind of, wanted to have a cute surprise announcement for you, this time,” she admits. “How you found out, about Joel, that was just…” Lise trails off with a shake of her head, still feeling kind of guilty, about how that went down. The emotional roller coaster she’d put John through by accident.

“Not exactly the greatest, no,” John agrees, brushing her hair back from her face.

“But, you could have told me. At least that you thought you were… I didn’t, hurt you, did I?” he asks, his eyes suddenly widening and Lise feels herself flush, at the memory of their wedding night.

“Non,” she reassures him. “They’re fine, trust me,” she murmurs and kisses him again. She had the ultrasound only the other day, well after the wedding.

She gets out her phone and goes to the gallery. Pulls up the picture from the scan and zooms in a little before she shows John.

“Here,” she murmurs and leans against him. Feels him rest his head against her temple and lets him take her phone. Watches as he stares at the screen, eyes wide and filled with moisture.

Lise leans in to kiss his cheek and strokes the back of his head. Runs her fingers through his hair as she nudges him gently.

“They're, tiny,” John breathes and she lets out a soft laugh.

“They are,” she agrees. “Though their facial features are forming, right now,” she adds, tilting her head slightly at the thought. She suddenly wonders, what the baby will look like. If they'll look a lot like Joel, or completely different.

“Wow,” he whispers and Lise reaches up to stroke his cheek. Swipes over her phone screen, through a few more pictures, before she finds the video.

“Woah,” John breathes as his hold on her tightens.

“Told you, they're fine,” Lise murmurs, touching her forehead to his temple for a moment.

“Maman?”

Lise jumps in John's lap and hears her phone clatter on the ground as he drops it in surprise. The two of them look over to the doorway, to find Joel there in his PJs, rubbing his face with Monkey.

“Euh,” she murmurs as she gets up to pick up her phone as John goes to collect their son.

“Hey, what are you doing out of bed, buddy?” he asks him as he picks Joel up and the boy clings to him.

“Woke up,” Joel murmurs. Hides his face against his father's neck briefly. “What're you wa'shing?” he slurs, leaning back to rub his eyes.

John looks over to her, giving Lise an uncertain look.

She hesitates, as well. She's off work for another three days, before she has to go back. Dyson already knows, she called her earlier to let her know that when she returns from her leave, she'll have to be on desk duty. Once she does go back to work, everyone else will find out, though. Everyone that works with her, that is.

Though she'll probably text Ruya later, to let her know, as well. But besides her, Kelly, and Lise's father, there won't be many people who they can really control telling about the pregnancy, and if they tell Joel, he won't be able to keep it a secret. And Lise doesn't want to put him in a position where he will have to feel bad, about letting it slip.

At the same time, this is going to change his life, as well. They have to prepare him for it, the baby will be a huge change and the sooner he can start getting used to it, the better. He really doesn't do well, with sudden changes, and Lise doesn't want him to be confused or hurt, or resentful, towards the baby, or them.

“Papa and I, were watching a video,” she finally says. Shifts, and then decides that, what the Hell, it won't hurt, right?

“We, have something we want to tell you,” she adds, wondering if John's look of surprise is because she wants to tell their child already, or because she's sticking with English. The latter is actually for his benefit. She can do this is French just fine, and she's pretty sure that Joel would understand her, as well, but she wants John to be able to chime in and know what she's saying.

John joins her by the couch and sits down with Joel in his lap. Kisses his temple and rocks him briefly as the boy leans against him, his stuffed monkey held tightly against his chest.

Lise takes a deep breath as she searches for the right words. She's not sure how to do this. Hasn't looked it up just yet. She thought they'd have a little more time, before they'd tell Joel.

“Do you remember what we were talking about, the other day?” John starts, holding Joel against him.

“No,” their son shakes his head, prompting a laugh from Lise as John grimaces. Foiled by their son's memory. Just their luck, really.

“Papa and Maman, we love you, very, very much,” Lise tells him. Reaches out to take Joel's hand, needing the physical contact, even if it's just for a moment.

“Sh'taime,” Joel slurs, Lise's lip tugging up into a soft smile. Maybe they should wait, at least until morning. There's a chance that Joel won't remember any of this, by the time he wakes up again.

“You know how, Maman told you that you were in her belly, once?” John tries.

“Hm,” Joel nods. “Was a baby, then,” he says and Lise smiles at him.

“Yes, that's right, you were a baby and in my belly, for a long time,” she confirms. Draws a slow breath, meeting John's gaze. “And now, there is, another baby, in my belly,” she says, holding her breath.

Nothing. Absolutely radio silence, from their son. For a few moments, Joel doesn't react. He just watches her and blinks and holds his monkey. And then his brows dip as he starts catching on.

“Buh...” he starts, trailing off with a look of confusion.

“Mommy is having another baby. A little sister or a little brother, for you,” John tells him, kissing his cheek.

“But... I'm here.”

“Yes, you are,” Lise nods and holds out her hands, to see if he might want to hug her. Joel frowns at her and presses closer to John. Okay, that's, that's fine. It stings a little, but it's alright. If he wants the comfort his father brings him, it’s fine.

“You know how Ruya and Hanif, they have two children, yes? They had Fatin first, and then Ruya had another baby, Hadida,” she tries to explain.

“It's kind of like that. Only Fatin was younger, when Hadida was in Ruya's belly. You're older than he was,” John adds.

“You're not going away,” Lise tells him, taking a wild guess as to what has Joel looking worried. “We still love you, you'll still be our son, forever. We'll just have another child, as well.”

Joel seems to relax at that. Reaches out for her and Lise pulls him into her lap. Kisses his cheek and holds him tightly for a moment.

“Can I see the baby?” he asks when he leans back. Rubs a hand over his eyes as Lise smiles at him.

“It's very, very small, right now,” she responds. “Papa and I, we were watching a video my doctor made,” she says and unlocks her phone to show Joel.

“Das not a baby,” he frowns at the display, making John laugh.

“It is,” he tells the boy. “It's just really, really tiny. So tiny we can't really see just yet,” he tries to explain. “And it doesn't look like a baby just yet, I guess,” he adds with a shrug.

“But you were that small, too,” Lise adds. “Papa and I have some pictures, we can show you in the morning, if you want to. Of what you looked like, when you were in my belly. How small you were.”

“When's the baby coming out?” Joel asks, poking at her belly. Lise quickly reaches down to still his hand.

“Non,” she shakes her head, keeping her voice stern. “No doing that, while the baby is in there.”

“Sowwy,” the little boy apologizes, ducking his head.

“It's alright, buddy,” John tells him and strokes his back as Lise let's go of his hand. “Look, you can put your hand there, alright? You have to ask Maman first, before you do it, and no hitting or poking. But you can touch it, and stroke her belly, yes? Gotta be gentle.”

Lise swallows thickly before she takes Joel's hand again and gently touches it to her lower abdomen. Keeps her own hand over it as she leans in to kiss Joel's temple.

“Je t'aime,” she murmurs to him. “I know you weren't trying to be mean, it's alright. But while I'm pregnant, while the baby is inside my tummy, we have to be a little careful, alright? They're so, small, so little, and we don't want to hurt them, right? So, like Papa said, no hitting, punching or kicking. No poking, either,” she attempts to explain.

Joel tilts his head, thinking, for a moment, before he leans down and surprises both John and her by kissing Lise's tummy.

She finds herself gaping at the boy as Joel sits up again and grins at her, and Lise ends up just shaking her head and hugging him, hard.

“Merci,” she murmurs softly as she kisses his cheek. Showers tiny little kisses all over it as relief floods her.

They're gonna be alright. It'll be exciting and new and a huge change and adjustment. And Lise doesn't doubt for a second that it'll be all worth it, in the end.

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaand i think that, this is it. it feels like a good place to end end this journey. i very much enjoyed writing it, a lot. this could have been a lot longer if i'd filled in more gaps, added more scenes, but it felt like a good balance and a natural at point to end this on.


End file.
